


Purple Words

by FangirlWolfie



Series: VCD [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Military, Misuse of powers, Moral Dilemmas, Mutual Pining, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Power Imbalance, Powerful Harry, some dom/sub elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2018-10-25 08:39:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 66,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10760664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangirlWolfie/pseuds/FangirlWolfie
Summary: “High five me.”James immediately put Harry down and gave him a high five.Huh?Oh.





	1. Like That Monster

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings are found in the tags. Might be some misspellings since English isn’t my mother language; feel free to comment if you find any ghastly ones. This is an alternative universe. Enjoy.

“No,” Lily gasped as she stared at her four-year-old son eating ice cream in the middle of the night. “He’s just like that monster.”

 - 4 years old -

“We can’t abandon him!” James cried out as he walked to and fro in the room, his usual mischievous face a mask of pain and misery. “Do you hear yourself Lily? Do you hear how crazy you sound?!”

“He’s a monster,” Lily retorted, her eyes gleaming and her hands shaking badly. “I don’t want him in this house, I don’t want him in our lives.”

James swore and hit the wall, hard. His hand came away bloody. “Lily,” he bit out, strong shoulders rising and falling in rhythm with his harsh breathing. “I know you didn’t want him. I know you were forced to carry through-”

“You don’t know anything,” Lily began, her voice choked up.

“But,” James continued like he hadn’t heard her. “We’ve had him for four year. He’s… he’s our son.”

Lily just shook her head, tears falling freely as she stared at the door leading to the living room. Harry should have been asleep half an hour ago; instead he was eating ice cream, watching his favourite movie.

“He isn’t your son.”

James let out a barking laugh and dragged a shaking hand through his hair. “Biology doesn’t matter,” he reasoned. “I raised him. I watched his first steps. I taught him to talk-”

“And that’s the biggest mistake you will ever make,” Lily got up from the chair, checking that Harry was still sitting in front of the TV. He was.

“Do you hear yourself,” James asked and looked at her like she had lost her mind.

“I want him out of this house,” Lily said with an empty voice, her stomach turning on itself as she watched the _monster_ eating a Ben &Jerry dressed in a dragon jumpsuit. “I want him out of our lives.”

\- 5 years old -

“Hi! How is my favourite Harry?” James asked with a smile. A beaming five year old came rushing towards him while screaming “ _DADDY_ ,” his hair a wild mess and his green eyes gleaming. Strangely enough, Harry reminded everyone more of James than Lily, despite them not being related.

“Daddy, Daddy!” Harry screamed out in joy as he flung himself into James’ embrace. “Look what Moony taught me!”

Harry wrinkled his nose in concentration as his small hands tightened their hold of James’ coat.

“ _High five me_.”

James immediately put Harry down and gave him a high five.

Huh.

 _Oh_.

“Wow,” James said despite feeling somewhat violated. “You’ve learned how to control it?”

Harry smiled, looking proud of his accomplishment. “U-hu. But only sometimes, and sometimes it happens even if I don’t want it to.”

James nodded seriously as he followed Harry into Grimmauld place. “It’s important with control,” he reminded the mischievous child.

Harry paused in his happy skipping to nod gravely at James. “Yes,” he agreed. “Sirius says that I can’t do it to anyone without permission.”

Harry suddenly gasped in horror.

“Dad,” he grabbed hold of James’ hand. “I’m sorry,” there were actual tears in his green eyes. “I didn’t ask-”

“It’s okay,” James assured him despite the feeling of wrong that refused to leave him. “Next time you’ll ask properly alright?”

Harry nodded seriously. “I will dad. I’m so, so sorry.”

James merely smiled and ruffled Harry’s mess of a hairdo. “I’m proud of you kid.”

The partly toothless smile Harry shot back at him was warm.

They kept walking into the old house. Sirius and Remus greeting James with hugs and smiles, tea and biscuits already on the table.

“So,” Sirius said with a wink. “Did Harry show you his new trick? He can control it! Isn’t it amazing?”

James nodded once more agreeing with both Remus and Sirius that yes, Harry was pretty amazing for a five-year-old.

Harry was happily chatting away, talking about kindergarten and his new friend Ron Weasley and Granger. Though, Granger wasn’t really a friend, she was more of a backup – or so Ron said.

The three old school friends kept listening and did the appropriate noises as Harry continued talking. Sirius was quick to fill in any blanks in Harry’s stories, like he’d already heard all of them several times before. Remus simply shook his head fondly and kept on listening, exchanging knowing looks with Sirius every now and then.

James, who’d never heard about anything coming out Harry’s mouth felt his smile strain momentarily at the fact that his two best friends knew his son better than himself.

After a while Harry grew quiet. His eyes shyly downcast in a very un-Harry manner.

“Ehm,” he mumbled, like he was embarrassed all of a sudden. “Will mom come next week?”

James felt something suspiciously alike claws tearing at his heart. “No son,” he said softly. “There’s a lot going on with work and mom… she’s simply too busy. Even _I_ don’t know if I will see her next week.” James tried on a smile, but found it fitting badly.

“Aha,” Harry said, his smile fitting rather badly too. “Tell her not to work too much,” he then proceeded to say with a firm voice. Not _the voice_ , but still different from his usual one. “And wish her a merry Christmas.”

James nodded. Wondering if he maybe should have separated and moved with Harry to somewhere only the two of them? But then he thought about red hair and green eyes. He thought of tears of fear and smiles of joy. No, he would never be able to abandon Lily, no matter what happened.

But that didn’t mean he would ever abandon Harry either.

“I’ll come next week though,” James said and this time his smile fit better. “And I’ll bring lots of presents!”

Harry’s eyes gleamed in excitement, earlier sorrows forgotten for now. “I want that new movie, the one about that Scottish princess!”

\- 6 years old -

“ _I don’t want to go to school today_!”

Sirius nodded at the screaming child before him. “Okay Harry,” he amended easily.

“ _Get out of my room_!”

Sirius nodded again as he closed the door carefully behind him. Walking down the stairs to deal with yesterday’s dishes. He’d been lazy after eating pizza and cuddling with his two favourite persons in the whole wide world in front of the telly. Enjoying the late night showing of a good’ol James Bond movie. Remus had complained about sexism and Harry had mimed drinking a martini.

So maybe they had stayed up too late. And maybe Sirius had waited with doing the dishes until today.

Remus was in the kitchen drinking tea. “Is he up yet?”

Sirius just shook his head.

Remus sighed. “I knew we shouldn’t have allowed him to stay up watching that movie.”

Sirius shrugged as he took place by the sink.

“When will he come down?”

Sirius allowed the tap to start pouring. “Later, he’s staying home today.”

There was only silence in response.

Sirius took the first dirty plate and started to scrub.

“Sirius,” Remus said with a choked voice. “Harry’s going to school today. It’s Monday.”

Sirius shook his head as he dried the washed plate in his hands. “No,” he said over his shoulder. “He’s staying home today.”

Remus rose from his chair. Suddenly a warm hand was placed on Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius started on another dirty plate.

“Is he mad? I heard screaming.”

Sirius shook his head. “Not really,” he answered. “Or maybe a bit. Ron had been playing with that other kid during Friday break, you remember?”

Remus squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “Yes I remember. Is that why he doesn’t want to go to school?”

“Maybe,” Sirius started to dry his second plate. “Or maybe he’s just tired after yesterday’s movie.”

Remus squeezed his shoulder once more before letting go. “I’ll talk to him,” he offered.

“Sure, but he’s not going to school today. And yeah, he doesn’t want anyone in his room either, so maybe don’t talk to him yet?”

“Okay,” Remus said.

Sirius stopped doing the dishes and looked at Remus over his shoulder. “You’re not going to disturb him are you?”

Remus shook his head. “Of course not. But I am going to brush my teeth.”

Sirius nodded. Relieved he wouldn’t need to remind Remus again about Harry not wanting to be disturbed. “Oh, okay. Go ahead.”

Remus disappeared upstairs and Sirius continued with the dishes: one more plate, some utilities, and the bread knife…. He wondered if maybe he should talk to Janis about a raise, he had actually done rather well this year. Bringing in the bad guys and cracking lots of cases, he did deserve some kind of reward. And Harry would soon need new clothes; six-year-olds apparently grew like crazy. Sirius wondered how fast Harry would be growing when he became a teenager.

There were steps sounding in the staircase.

“Pads.” That was Harry sounding really, really sad.

Sirius immediately felt concern. He put down the dishes and turned around with a frown. “Harry?” he asked as he saw the crying boy. “What’s wrong?”

“ _I want to go to school today_.”

Sirius smiled easy. “Of course you’re going to school today, it’s Monday.”

“I’m so sorry Pads,” Harry cried as he flung himself at Sirius, fat tears running down his face. “I’m so, so, sorry.”

\- 7 years old -

“Hi mom,” Harry said as he opened the door for Lily to come in. James came soon behind her, giving Harry a big smile and a quick hug. Lily ruffled Harry’s hair with a trembling hand.

“Harry,” James smiled at the dark-haired boy. “Meet your sister.” He allowed the bundle in his arms to show more clearly, getting down on a knee and patting the ground next to him.

Harry’s eyes were wide and wondrous. “I have a sister?” he asked in astonishment.

“Yes,” James smiled as he looked at his two children lovingly. His chest felt like it might explode into thousands of pink butterflies. “You’re a big brother.”

Harry was stretching forth a hand towards the sleeping baby; his mouth a bit open, like he couldn’t believe something that small could actually exist. “She’s so tiny.”

But just before Harry could pet her Lily was there, practically tearing the baby from James’ arms and stepping away. Harry looked scared as he stared at his departing mother.

James felt something turn ugly inside of him.

“Hey,” he tried to wipe the miserable face off of Harry by embracing him in a tight hug. “I missed you pup.”

Harry gave James a smile, not a very sincere one, but a smile non-the-less. “Missed you too dad.”

James held onto the small boy in his arms tighter. Wishing for life not to be so complicated. “I’ll visit more,” he breathed into the dark hair underneath his nose. “It’s just been so much with your sister being born and all.”

Harry hugged him back just as tightly. “It’s okay dad. Just take care of my sister, she’s so tiny.”

“Her name is Dana,” James revealed as he tried to be happy since this was their first Christmas celebrated together in years.

But somehow the happiness didn’t seem to come.

\- 8 years old -

“Harry,” Sirius said in a grave voice. Feeling strangely scared at he stared at the child before him. Harry looked at Sirius with green eyes, glasses making him appear adorably alike a small professor.

“Yeah Pads,” Harry was smiling, carelessly. School had just quit for summer, why wouldn’t he be happy?

Sirius took a deep breath, wondering for the first time ever if he was making a mistake.

“I got your grades,” was all Sirius said as he laid down the paper before Harry. All subjects being lined up and graded in proper order. Harry’s grades varied a lot, nothing strange with that. What was strange on the other hand was his outstanding result in math. Harry had never been very good at math, most likely since he found it boring.

But still… Harry’s grades showed another story. A _wrong_ story.

Harry was looking at Sirius with his big eyes and round face, dark hair falling down and blocking his forehead from view. There was a noticeable red tint to his cheeks. “I know they’re not perfect,” Harry mumbled as he looked down at his lap. “But they’re still pretty good right? It’s not like I’ve failed anything.”

Sirius nodded seriously. “Yeah they’re all good. Except math.”

Harry immediately looked up at that, guilt all over his face. “What about math?” Harry’s eyes were suddenly playing the avoidance game.

Sirius took a deep breath. Just because this was the first time Harry had purposely misused his powers – _that you know of_ – didn’t mean he would turn into a monster. It didn’t mean he would tell Sirius to forget about his suspicions and get on with his life. It didn’t mean anything…

Still… Sirius felt for the first time ever… scared… because of Harry.

“You can’t do this,” Sirius said with a slightly shaking voice. “You really can’t do this.”

Harry just kept avoiding Sirius’ gaze.

“Do you understand that you made another human being do something he didn’t want? Do you realise how this makes _me_ feel? Remus feel? Your dad?”

Harry was still not looking.

“Harry,” Sirius put all the weight he could into the words. “We trust you not to do things like this.”

Harry remained quiet for a second, his brows furrowed and his body language rigid. “He was going to fail me,” Harry spit out at last. “I was one point from passing the test and just because of that he was going to fail me.”

Sirius shook his head slowly. “Then you should have studied more-”

“It wasn’t fair!” Harry crossed his arms over his chest. Breath dancing out of his mouth as blazing green eyes zeroed in on Sirius. “He hates me and that’s why he’s failing me!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sirius pressed on, hands tightly knotted on the table. “You abused another human being’s mind.”

“I didn’t!” Harry got up from his chair, holding his grounds. “I didn’t, I didn’t, I didn’t!”

“You did,” Sirius said, also getting up from his chair. “You’re grounded for a week and no sleep over with Ron this weekend.”

Harry stared at him with big, disbelieving eyes. Sirius tried to brace himself as he stood firm. Harry seldom did anything wrong, and whenever he did he’d always realised his mistake at once. No time before had been like this. Because Harry hadn’t abused his powers like this.

Harry opened his mouth. Sirius clenched his hands into fists, trying to get ready for what was to come.

Then Harry screamed out a “I hate you,” before stomping up the stairs to his room.

Sirius couldn’t help but fall down in a heap as soon as he heard Harry slam his door shut, breath panicky and hands trembling. Harry had taken his punishment, Harry hadn’t told Sirius to forget and just be happy for him. Harry was still good.

To make sure, Sirius dragged his phone out from his pocket. He had one voice mail.

“Hello Sirius, this is past Sirius. Harry have cheated his math grade and has to be talked to about it. He has to understand that his actions have consequences. You can’t under any circumstances be happy for his excellent grade or forget about this incident. This happened and if you don’t remember he has made you forget.”

\- 9 years old -

“Back away from me,” Lily’s voice was ice cold. “Don’t you dare come a step closer, you- you freak!”

Harry backed away immediately, head hanging low as he hid behind Sirius.

“Lily,” Sirius sighed deeply. “He was only helping-”

“He wasn’t helping,” Lily almost shouted, holding a two-year old Dana in a firm grip. “I had it handled!”

James came into the room, his face worried as he seemingly took in the scene. “Lily,” he asked with a questioning tone. “What is going on?”

Lily simply shook her head, hands still grasping Dana, almost desperately.

“Mommy,” Dana whined softly in her arms. “Too hard.”

“Hush sweetie, I’m sorry,” Lily was quick to amend. Burying her face in the red locks of her daughter. “It’s okay, mommy’s here, nothings going to happen.”

“Lily,” Sirius tried again as he held onto Harry’s hand hard. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

Lily whipped around. “He did,” she whispered furiously, eyes never even traveling towards the vicinity of Harry. “He used- he made me-”

“He made you drop the book instead of Dana,” Remus spoke up from the sofa, his face blank as he rose. “He was only trying to help Lily, he can’t always control it. He’s only nine.”

Lily shook her head angrily.

“Mommy?”

“It’s okay sweetie,” Lily was quick to amend, her body tense and her feet jittery. It was clear as a day that she wanted out of here. “We’re going home and you can watch the new Disney movie if you want to.”

“Really?”

“Of course sweetie.”

Dana squealed of happiness at the same time as Sirius felt Harry’s hand grab his that much harder.

“I’m- I’m sorry mom,” Harry began, his voice small, quiet.

Lily jerked at the sound, but otherwise ignored him. “Now James,” she demanded as she walked out of the room, not sparing Harry a glance.

“Mom,” Harry whispered into the empty space left behind. Sirius felt his heart break in two.

“Harry.” He turned around and grabbed hold of the silently crying boy. “I’m sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Harry just shook his head, hands jerking up towards his face and wiping furiously.

“Harry,” Sirius said again and tried to put a calming hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” Harry shouted suddenly and jerked away. “You’re not better than her! You’re all waiting for me to snap, to do something horrible! But I won’t!” Harry’s chest was heaving as he stared at the remaining three adults in the room. “I won’t!” he said again, a fresh wave of tears pouring out from his already swollen eyes.

“Harry,” Sirius couldn’t help that his voice sounded choked up. This was goddamn awful. He took a step closer.

“No,” Harry shook his head. “No,” he said again as Remus made to step closer as well. “Leave… just leave me alone.”

Then Harry was running out of the room, opening and slamming doors in his wake to get to his bedroom. Sirius stared after him with a heavy feeling in his gut. They had been mistrustful hadn’t they?

Sirius usually left voice messages whenever he was about to have an argument with Harry, while Remus always doubled checked with Sirius what had happened yesterday in the mornings. As if they both waited for Harry to go dark.

It… it was just that Harry was so young. So young and already possessing more power than most people would in their entire life. How could they be sure that Harry, a child, wouldn’t one day fall for the temptation of _speaking_?

“We have to go,” James said as they all stood there, staring out the door which Harry had ran through. “Lily and Dana are probably already outside, waiting,” James dragged a hand through his ruffled hair.

“Yeah,” Remus bit out bitterly, throwing the book he’d been holding at the wall. The sudden thud made both Sirius and James jerk. “It’s just,” Remus sneered, his usually friendly face nowhere to be seen. Instead he looked angry… furious even. “Lily and you always leave. What are even Lily and Dana doing here? It’s not like Dana’s allowed to play with Harry. It’s not like Lily’s acknowledging her own goddamn _son_!”

Remus kicked the small coffee table with force.

“I mean,” he continued in a loud voice. “Wouldn’t it be better for Harry _not_ to have grown up with a mother that despises him?! It’s not like she’s giving him any joy or happy memories!”

Remus whirled around, both Sirius and James stunned by this violent outburst, even though it was true. Every word of it.

Remus pointed a finger in James’ chest, James whole body tipping backwards for the faintest of moments before balancing out the sudden onslaught of force.

“Why are you still with her,” Remus wheezed out. “With such a cold-hearted woman.”

James shook his head firmly. “You know what happened.”

Remus simply shook his head, pacing once more. “Harry isn’t his father. For Christ sake _you’re_ his father James.”

“It’s just…” James sounded small. “She doesn’t like to remember and Harry… he reminds her.”

“Have she heard about responsibility? It isn’t like someone else carried him nine months-”

“For Christ sake Remus she was goddamn raped,” James looked at his two best friends, eyes a bit too wide and chest heaving. “She didn’t want the baby, but hey he forced her to carry through,” James began pacing as well now that Remus was frozen on the spot just like Sirius.

James looked mad as he kicked the same table Remus had kicked only moments ago.

“When we met, after she’d finally managed to kill the bald-headed bastard, the baby was already born. And she refused to give it away and I thought she was crazy,” James stopped his pacing as he sunk onto the floor. “I thought she’d been making up stories in her mind to help cope with being kidnapped for years.”

Sirius and Remus were quiet as they regarded James by the fireplace. Eyes hollow as he seemed to recall times better forgotten. Sirius didn’t know what to do. He loved Harry, but yes, he knew what had happened to Lily. Knew the whole horrible story behind it, And every time James got that look in his face, the look that spoke of horrors and demons living inside James’ mind. The same look he sometimes got ever since he and his police partner had rescued that redheaded girl nine years ago.

Sirius wondered if he should say something. Problem was what?

\- 10 years old -

The gunman wore a ski mask over his face, Remus noted as he dragged Harry behind him, trying to protect him against the robber. If only Harry hadn’t decided to spend the day in the bookshop, if only Remus had told him to go running with Sirius instead.

Now, there was a gun to his head and a trembling child behind him. Please god, don’t let him hurt Harry.

“The money,” the man said, voice coming out slightly muffled through the headwear, a black wool thing with holes for eyes and nothing more. “Put the fucking money in a bag you ugly fuck!”

Remus nodded. Of course he would cooperate. He would give this man all the money in the world, just so he wouldn’t shoot him – but more importantly – wouldn’t shoot Harry.

“Oh, you have a little brat behind you?” the gunman asked as his eyes took in the sight of Harry hiding behind Remus. Shakingly, wide-eyed, horrible confused Harry.

“I’m getting you the money,” Remus said in a calm voice, herding Harry further behind him, allowing his body to become a protective shield.

The gunman didn’t seem to like that. “What’s the fucking problem!? Just let me talk to the brat!”

“Here,” Remus shuffled the money into the bag as fast as he could. He needed to protect Harry. He needed to protect Harry. “Here is everything I have.”

He stretched forth the bag filled with today’s earnings.

The gunman took it with a hard jerk.

Remus allowed it to happen. It didn’t matter much to him. Money couldn’t buy you a new life. Couldn’t buy you a new Harry.

“This store is kind of shitty,” The gunman continued as he kept the gun pointed at Remus. “You know what? I think you are a bit shitty as well. If I shoot you I’ll probably do the brat a favour.”

Remus felt bile rise in the back of his throat. “I gave you money,” he said, still in a calm voice. It wouldn’t do to panic; it wouldn’t _do_ to panic.

“Yeah,” the gunman said and slung the bag over his shoulder. “Thank you for that.”

He didn’t lower his gun.

He was going to shoot.

Remus didn’t want to die. He had Sirius and Harry. He didn’t want to die.

“ _Put the gun down and go sit in the corner_.”

Remus watched as the gunman did just so.

There was a small shaking hand holding onto his.

Remus watched the gun on the floor. The gun that had almost blown a hole through his head. He breathed out.

Thank god.

Remus fell in a heap on the floor, shaking badly. “Oh god, oh god,” he couldn’t help but say again and again. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Harry was suddenly there, hugging Remus hard and crying as well. “It’s okay,” Harry whispered like it was he who was the adult. “He won’t hurt you Moony, we’re okay.”

Remus just held onto the small saviour in his arms. Because that was what Harry was. Not a villain or a catastrophe waiting to happen. Harry was good, all the way through. He had known that. But now – holding onto a small shaking body and watching his almost-bane sit in a corner – he could for the first time, _see_ it.


	2. Vanilla Daim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings are found in the tags. Might be some misspellings since English isn’t my mother language; feel free to comment if you find any ghastly ones. This fic is set in an alternative universe. Enjoy.

\- 11 years old -

“Who is stupid?” Sirius asked as he took a bite of the newly made chicken sandwich, the spicy meat juicy and simply delicious.

Harry was sitting at their kitchen table, his small hand underneath his jaw and mouth pursed together in an annoyed grimace. “Malfoy,” he spat out the name with contempt.

Sirius, unfortunately, recognized the name. “Lucius’ son?” He asked before taking another bite, he really had to ask Remus to teach him the secret of sandwich making.

Harry nodded bitterly. “He’s such a brat,” he declared. “He was teasing Ron about his ‘ugly’ hairdo and told me I had dirt on my face.”

“Well, did you?” Remus piped up at the counter, busy making another sandwich for Harry. Sirius wondered if maybe he could persuade Remus to make him another one as well.

Harry looked at Remus in disbelief. His eyes narrowing as he muttered a “Maybe…”

Sirius choked on the piece of chicken he was chewing, laughter trying to break out through the food. Of course Lucius’ son would be just as rude as his ol’ man. “Sounds like Lucius’ son,” Sirius said and gave Remus a look. Remembering the old days when the three of them plus Peter (can’t forget the traitor) had attended school with Lucius. Sirius had been on the receiving end of biting comments more than once. He knew how sharp the Malfoys’ tongues could be.

“Don’t laugh,” Harry scolded despite his own sour face melting away. “It was awful.”

“I bet it was,” Sirius just said before bursting out into laughter, delicious chicken-sandwich momentarily forgotten. “Oh I can imagine Ron’s face.”

“Stooooop!” Harry cried out, but his own smiling face was betraying him. “Ron got really red in the face it was so embarrassing!”

“At least then he matched his hair,” Sirius couldn’t resist commenting.

Harry gasped like Sirius had cursed him. “That was exactly what Malfoy said! How dare you!” Harry charged with a battle cry leaving his lips. Sirius was quick with swallowing down his sandwich (couldn’t allow unnecessary casualties after all). He caught the little ball of Harry in his arms. Holding onto his godson as they took their pretend-wrestling to the floor.

“Victory is mine!” Sirius screamed in delight as he pinned Harry to the wooden floorboards.

Harry just laughed as he tried to get out of Sirius grip. “Noooooo!” he wailed in defeat.

“Please,” Remus said as he passed them, three new chicken sandwiches on a plate in his hand (god bless him, Sirius thought, saliva gathering in his mouth). “When you’re done I got food ready.”

Sirius’ eyes flickered over the food and then down to Harry. Harry was also staring at the sandwiches, hungry.

“Sooo,” Sirius said as he adjusted his grip. “Hungry?”

“Yeeeees,” Harry said slowly as he dragged his green eyes away from the sandwiches and looked at Sirius instead. “Are you going to let me up anytime soon?”

Sirius smiled mischievously. “Why don’t you make me?”

Harry smiled back, his eyes gleaming. “ _Let me up_.”

Sirius let go of Harry’s hands and let him up in the span of a few seconds. Harry rose from the floor with a small smile. Sirius ruffled his hair.

“Was that okay?” Harry asked, his smile wobbling slightly, the same way as it always did whenever he commanded Remus or Sirius.

Sirius just rolled his eyes. “Harry,” he said as he grabbed hold of the boy’s hand and dragged him to the kitchen table where Remus already sat, reading the newspaper and eating one of those – oh so delicious – sandwiches. “We’ve already talked about this. Do what feels okay for you, do your whole command voice sometimes, and if you’re crossing any boundaries Remus and I will tell you.”

Harry nodded, eyes downcast but mouth smiling. “Yeah, I know.”

“It’s always good to practise,” Sirius then said. “You saved Remus last year and then it was that lady and her daughter and that old man… You’re amazing Harry!”

Harry was full on beaming as he looked up at Sirius. “Thanks Pads,” he said and there was love in those words. Sirius wouldn’t tear up, he just wouldn’t.

“No Harry. Thank you.”

\- 12 years old -

Ron looked up at the two adults before him, Harry’s godfathers. He felt oddly guilty, like he’d committed a mischief and was facing down Mrs McGonagall. Mr Black wore his trademark smirk while Mr Lupin merely looked slightly worried.

“So,” Black said as he uncrossed his arms over his chest, leaving his hands to dangle dangerously free as he regarded Ron with that chilling smirk. Mr Black was a cop, every kid on the block knew that. A damn fine cop as well, or so Ron’s mom usually said. Ron couldn’t help but gulp as he stared up into what was undoubtedly Mr Black’s interrogation face. This whole ordeal was slightly frightening.

“For Christ sake,” Mr Lupin muttered beside Black. “You’re scaring him half to death.”

“What,” Black dropped his predatory smirk in favour of sending Mr Lupin a scandalous look. “I’m not!”

Lupin didn’t answer, just rolled his eyes. Ron felt slightly safer as he watched Lupin tell Black off. No matter that Lupin was the thinner counterpart of the two was it obvious whom was in charge. Thank god.

“Ehm,” Ron got out as he stared at the bickering duo before him. “I’m sorry, have I done something wrong?”

Black’s attention returned to Ron with new vigour. “Maybe,” he purred.

Ron twitched in his seat.

“Just let _me_ talk,” Lupin muttered while he dragged a hand through his hair. “Ron,” he went down on one knee in front of Ron’s chair. His face open and kind, Ron felt his fluttering heart calm down somewhat. “Today at school-”

“Harry did that weird thing?” Ron knew that sometimes people behaved weird around Harry. Especially when Harry had been younger.

Lupin’s eyes widened slightly even as his smile didn’t waver. “Exactly,” he said simply. “You’ve noticed it happen before?”

Ron shrugged his shoulders. “Like, I probably wouldn’t have noticed it if Harry hadn’t asked me to let him taste my ice cream three years ago.”

“Yeah?” Lupin raised an eyebrow. “You don’t usually share ice creams with others?”

Ron shook his head. “Sure I do, just not if it’s vanilla daim.”

Lupin nodded as if Ron’s argument made perfect sense. “I understand.”

“And it’s not like it has happened lots of times,” Ron continued. “I don’t even know if Harry knows when it happens.”

“Why not?” Black chipped in.

Ron shrugged his tiny shoulders. “Like, you don’t notice it. He’s just asking someone to move or hold the door and people do it.” Ron started to drag his shirtsleeve to and fro, lost in thoughts. “It’s hard to notice… but like… sometimes people are a bit too eager you know?”

Lupin nodded like he knew exactly what Ron was talking about.

“It’s not like what he did today. Stopping that bully.”

“Ah yes,” Lupin shot Black a look. “The bully.”

“I don’t think people noticed. Not really. Probably not even Vincent. Harry just told him it was wrong to steal peoples backpacks and then he, you know, ‘ _told him’_ never to do it again.”

“Oh, that little rascal,” Mr Black muttered, his face a mix of a fond smile and displeased frown.

Lupin simply looked a bit tired. “Then I guess I don’t have to ask you to stay quiet about this?”

Ron shook his head. “Nah, it’s cool.”

Tension seemed to visibly seep out of Lupin. “Oh, that’s good. You can go play with Harry, we just needed to make sure.”

“I understand,” Ron said because he did. He’d seen ET and all those horrible movies where the government saw something new, something different, and took it away to a lab. He refused to let that happen to Harry, his best friend.

Lupin gave him a warm smile while Black just looked a bit on the crazy side. Ron was maybe a little bit scared of the policeman.

“Hurry along now,” Black smirked. He didn’t have to say it twice.

\- 13 years old -

“I can’t fucking talk anymore,” Harry sounded devastated as he paced back and fro in the room. “Better that I just shut up forever.”

“Harry,” Sirius watched the thirteen-year-old pace, desperately grabbing for something to say. “You’ll work through it, as you did the first time.”

“It doesn’t work,” Harry kicked the wall, swearing as his foot started to hurt.

“Not with that attitude,” Ron said, still sitting on the couch next to Remus with a chicken-sandwich in hand.

“ _Shut up Ron_ ,” Harry sneered. Ron immediately stilled, mouth firmly closed and body practically frozen.

Harry let out a grunt as tears of frustration started leaking from his green eyes, hands formed into fists.

“I’m sorry! _Talk how much you want_!”

Ron unfroze at once and sent Harry a dirty look. “Can you just calm the F down?”

Harry wiped an arm over his face, tears still falling despite his best efforts. “My life is falling apart! I can’t just _calm_ down.”

“Harry,” Sirius stopped the pacing teen with a firm hand. “We’re here with you. We’ll work through this.”

Harry was tense underneath Sirius’ hand, but he didn’t rip away from him. Instead he stood firm, breathing heavily as tears kept pouring, these ones falling freely.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Sirius continued and dared to drag his godson into a tight hug. “No matter what happens we’re not going anywhere.”

Harry seemed to melt into the embrace after a second or two, all resistance gone. “I just don’t know what to do. I had to go home from school today. Go home!”

“Hush,” Sirius stroked his hand over soft black hair, the touch familiar and safe. “We’re here because we care. So what if puberty is making your voice change to ‘ _command mode’_ , we’ll work it through.”

“Really,” Harry sounded small and so unsure.

“Of course,” Remus responded as he got up from the couch, closely followed by Ron.

“Naturally dumbo,” was all Ron said as he rolled his eyes.

Harry did a face at Ron as his redheaded friend and Remus joined the hug party, all four of them tightly pressed together and muttering soft encouragements to Harry.

It seemed to help.

\- 14 years old -

Ron looked over at Hermione as they sat on either side of Harry. Grimalund place was for once clean and tidy. Remus had moved his random piles of books into the study and Sirius’ usual mess of clothes, handcuffs, food and sports gear was carefully hidden in a closet upstairs.

It was the week before Christmas and for the first time in five years Lily, James and Dana would visit. Ron didn’t know the details, but last time they’d been here Harry had apparently commanded Lily. It had not been appreciated to say the least.

Ron didn’t quite understand it all, like… Sure, sometimes Harry accidently made him do things but it wasn’t bad. Harry always apologized and Ron knew that his best friend rather die than make someone feel scared or used.

Hermione sent Ron a pointed look, her brown eyes travelling from the door to the hall to Harry. There were noises coming from the other room. Apparently Lily and the rest were here.

Harry was tense beside him. He didn’t talk much anymore, not since his command voice had started to slip out more and more. Hermione hadn’t stood a chance when Harry had told her to ‘ _run faster’_ in P.E.

She’d become invaluable of course, and been loyal without fault so far. Ron would like to thank whomever had decided to send Granger their way, it was so much easier to look out for Harry when you had a partner in crime. Ron suspected Harry agreed.

Hermione simply had a way to predict whenever Harry’s command voice was going to make an appearance. She was also amazing at coming up with excuses and explanations. Ron felt his heart flutter at the thought of Hermione lying to the teachers without flinching. She’d seemed like such a nerd in the beginning.

“Harry,” Hermione said in her ‘dead-serious’ voice. “We’re with you.” There was an odd warmth in the words.

Harry sent her a strained smile. “Thank you,” he mumbled, hands trembling as he lanced both of his with Ron and Hermione’s. Ron squeezed the palm in his hand, trying to send Harry courage through the point of contact.

“He’s in here.”

Sirius’ voice was light as were the footsteps following. The door to the living room was already opened and in walked… Sirius. Ron had started to relax in the presence of the policeman – hard to do much else when you spent so much time together worrying about a certain someone – but he still felt his spine straighten when Sirius’ dark, worried eyes travelled over him.

Behind Sirius came James. Still the same towering figure as always, joyful smile fitting over his lips like a glove while his hair remained a forever mess. His smile grew when he spotted Harry.

“Harry!” he exclaimed and quickly moved into the room, arms open and eyes gleaming. “It’s been too long son,” he choked as he rounded the coffee table in front of the couch.

Harry got up quickly, letting go of Ron and Hermione’s hands to throw his arms over his dad’s shoulders. “Dad!” he cried out with something wet clogging his voice. It was a nice scene, heart-warming. Ron couldn’t help but feel his mouth shape itself into a half-moon.

James usually visited Harry lots of times every week. That there had been _over_ a week since last was only because of a business trip. No, the reason why Ron and Hermione were here, seated on the couch, wasn’t to witness James and Harry hug it out. No, they were here because of _her_.

She came walking through the door, Remus behind her. Lily Evans’ hair was gleaming red in the warm lights inside of Grimalund place, her stance unsure, her tanned limbs trembling and her green eyes watchful. She looked neither comfortable nor happy. Behind her appeared a young girl, eyes brown and hair red.

Dana. Harry’s younger sister.

Ron had heard about her but he hadn’t seen her. Harry didn’t like to talk about her, just as he didn’t like to talk about Lily. But Remus had been sure to inform both Ron and Hermione of just why it would be _really_ appreciated if they could support Harry this very evening.

_It might be easier_ , he’d explained, _both for Lily and Harry if they could have some sort of buffer between them_.

So here were Ron and Hermione, sitting in the familiar couch of Grimalund place, meeting people they’d only heard rumours about. And not good rumours.

“James,” Lily’s voice was firm and tense as she kept a good ten meters between herself and the hugging duo.

James released Harry reluctantly, his eyes a bit sad as he ruffled Harry’s raven hair. “Yes dear,” he answered, voice a degree colder than usual. It was slightly unsettling to see James behave like anything but a goofy dad.

“Take Dana, please?”

Dana didn’t seem to need much taking, her seven-year-old self standing firm as she looked around the room with curious eyes. She was very cute, a button nose and long curly hair. There were even a freckle or two on the bridge of her nose.

“Dana,” James were suddenly crouching down, “come here.”

Lily froze; it was impossible not to notice.

“James,” her voice carried a warning.

A warning James seemed keen to ignore.

“Dana,” he cooed again, one of his hands lancing with Harry’s as he made a ‘come here’ movement with his other. “Meet Harry.”

“James Potter,” Lily sounded dead cold as her eyes narrowed dangerously. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Letting Dana meet her brother,” James sounded calm in the storm of Lily’s anger. “It’s about damn time.”

Dana was moving forward, away from her mom’s grasping hands as she stared at Harry with big green eyes. She carded her hands through a red curl nervously.

“Come,” James’ smiled warmly as Dana drew closer, her small hand catching her dad’s as she stepped right up to James and Harry. Ron looked away from Dana, instead focusing on Harry. His best friend seemed frozen.

“This,” James whispered in a warm voice, “is Harry.”

Dana looked shyly up towards Harry. “Hello,” she offered while clinging to her dad’s forearm. “Nice to meet you.”

Harry was still just staring at the small girl in front of him. Ron wondered what went through his mind.

“Hello,” Harry offered at last, joining James by crouching down on the ground, a smile marring his face as he shyly looked at his half-sister. He offered her his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from Lily as Dana placed her small hand in Harry’s larger one with a nervous giggle. Ron couldn’t help but glance at Lily, noticing her panicked expression as well as how Remus was sending the redheaded woman an irritated look.

“Nice to meet you,” Dana replied, quickly withdrawing her hand after the curt shake. “Are you Harry with the evil voice?”

For a second everyone froze as the words registered to their brains. It wasn’t really a question of who had described Harry’s voice as evil to Dana.

Ron and the rest of the room shot Lily looks filled with anger and hurt. That _bitch_! It was just unfair, Harry was everything but evil. Harry was a goddamn hero before anything. He did so much to be good, who was she to tell Dana Harry was what? His father?!

But Harry’s smiled only dimmed a bit, his eyes never leaving Dana’s. “I suppose,” he said with a heavy voice. “But my voice isn’t evil,” he promised her. “I would never use it against you.”

Dana’s forehead was wrinkled. “Why is it evil?” Her question was honest and despite what Lily might have told her about Harry and his evil voice, clearly Dana weren’t entirely mind-wiped.

“Excuse me,” James said, his smile completely gone. “I’m going to talk to mommy okay sweetie?” He kissed Dana softly on her forehead. “Wait here with Harry, Pads and Moony alright?”

Dana’s eyes flickered briefly to her dad’s face, the nod she sent him relaxed, unworried. James walked towards Lily, Remus joining up at his side.

“I’ll come back soon,” Remus whispered to Sirius, his eyes as cold as his voice. Lily on the other hand had crossed her arms tightly over her chest, head shaking and eyes worried.

“We’re not leaving her with _him_.” Ron had never quite hated another human being as he did Lily Evans this very moment. She didn’t even know Harry, refused to know him, and still she judged him. It was downright disgusting.

“We _are_ ,” James voice was hard. His cop-voice, Ron’s inner provided.

Lily was shaking her head still but Remus whispered something to her. Something that made her face pale and her hands tremble. Something that actually made her follow James and Remus out of the room, leaving Dana in the company of Harry, his two friends and Sirius.

Dana was still looking at Harry with big, questioning eyes, waiting for answers.

Harry sighed. Ron saw how his best friend’s hands trembled slightly.

“So,” she asked again. “Is it really evil?”

Harry smiled at her. “It could be,” he amended. “It’s a bit like a branch, you can either make it a walking stick, or you can make it a spear.”

Dana furrowed her eyebrows. “Like feet?” she asked, a light appearing in her eyes. “Like you can either run or kick people in the shin?”

Harry let out a small laugh, “Yeah.”

Dana gave Harry a big grin. “But you’re nice right?”

Harry nodded. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Dana looked like she considered Harry’s promise for a second or two, then she sent her brother a full on beam. “Then your voice isn’t evil! Then it’s nice!”

Ron felt himself smile. Dana really wasn’t anything like Lily. Thank god.

Harry seemed to think similarly. “Can I hug you?” he asked with a wet voice.

Dana just opened her arms, not unlike how James had done earlier. “I like big hugs!”

They looked oddly similar hugging side by side. Like a miniature version of James and Lily. Dana with her red hair and Harry with his raven.

“Please,” Dana whispered into the crook of Harry’s neck after a second or two. “Do you want to make a pillow fortress?” She was practically pleading. Like she’d been sitting on that very question for quite a while.

Harry let out another wet laugh. “What do you say guys?” He turned around to Hermione and Ron with gleaming eyes, clearly happy. “Up for making a pillow fortress?”

Ron felt himself smile as he winked at little Dana, giving her thumbs up. “Please,” Ron said with a cocky voice. “I’m the king of pillow fortresses.”

“Yes,” Hermione said, her face relaxed and happy as well. “I believe we can make a really cool fortress. Or what do you say Dana?”

Dana looked overwhelmed with happiness. “Yes,” she replied. “It’s going to be legendary!”

\- 15 years old -

Draco looked at the boy in front of him. Harry Potter had grown up nicely during the summer. The boy was usually scrawny, all edges and sharp corners in exception to his puffy cheeks that had left him with a close to childish appearance. His hair had always been a mess; a raven mess with curls sticking up in every direction. So Draco was surprised.

Pleasantly surprised.

Harry Potter didn’t look like quite such a mess anymore.

Tall, even taller than Draco, with a defined chest and long legs. The way those jeans stretched over his thighs left a rather burning feeling inside of Draco. It was a bit like someone had inflated Harry Potter in every aspect except his cheeks. Because somewhere underneath all the previous puffiness had sharp cheekbones been hiding. Cheekbones Draco was convinced would be able to cut diamonds.

It also helped that Potter had decided to have a hairdo instead of simply hair.

So it was a bit of everything that made Draco want to approach the tall boy he’d deemed annoyance before, but now deemed a potential something. But a something what? A something friend? Boyfrie…

Draco shuddered as he continued to watch. Glasses, why had Potter decided glasses were a good idea? Because it was a good idea… _such_ a good idea.

So Draco was staring as Vincent and Gregory sat down beside him in the classroom. Greeting him with a fist bump and a “what’s up?”

Draco reluctantly tore his eyes from Potter where he sat with the redhead and the nerd to answer Vincent with tales from Greece and Florida. It had been quite the summer.

When the teacher stumbled into the classroom Draco ended the conversation with a “tell you more later” and turned around, checking Potter because… well… why not. Only, Potter was already staring at him, blazing green eyes resting firmly on him and mouth slightly parted.

Draco wanted to blush and it was only pure instincts that made him turn the flow of blood to his cheeks into a cocky smirk. Giving off the vibe, I-know-I’m-hot-stuff. Potter was now the one turning away, his cheeks a delightful red. Draco felt something like victory leave a sweet taste in his mouth.

The lesson started and Draco was now unapologetically staring at Potter’s broad back. It had been such a good idea to sit further in the back during lessons. Potter and the redhead on the other hand was stuck in the front with miss Nerd and Braces. Ha, shame on them.

Draco wondered if he should work against Potter’s friends or with them. If he wanted to become friends with Potter quickly _with_ was the better option, if he wanted Potter for himself on the other hand…

Draco contemplated the redhead and the nerd. Hm… His father had told him to value brains. And the redhead was quite a good sportsman despite his close to ghastly manners. And Potter seemed quite fond of them.

_With_ , Draco decided then and there.

“Greg, Vince,” he whispered underneath his breath. “Remember how we don’t like the golden trio?”

Both of his friends nodded slowly.

“Well,” Draco continued, eyes tracking the form of one hot Potter. “Now we do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I posted the second chapter rather quickly :) 
> 
> I probably won’t post this regularly in the future but I had some time off school this week and this is what I did with my spare time!
> 
> Comments and kudos are as always appreciated and helps keep me motivated. 
> 
> Anyway! Stay awesome! I’m out ;)


	3. Kiss me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings are found in the tags. Might be some misspellings since English isn’t my mother language; feel free to comment if you find any ghastly ones. This fic is set in an alternative universe. Enjoy.

\- 16 years old -

Draco really wanted to kiss Harry. He just wanted their ridiculous dance to stop and to finally kiss Harry’s stupid face.

“ _Goddamn it Draco, just kiss me already._ ”

Without hesitation Draco wrapped his arms around broad shoulders and pressed his parted mouth to Harry’s. Soft lips clashing and rough stubble meeting smooth cheek. Draco’s lips tingled and his body burnt pleasantly as his hands grabbed while his mouth moved. Harry’s hands were kneading Draco’s thighs and all of a sudden Draco noticed that he was sitting in Harry’s lap.

He wondered if he should say something, maybe pull back and give Harry a stupid beam because everything was just so goddamn perfect. But he just had to keep on kissing Harry. He just had to…

There were wetness and hot air and Draco’s fingers were buried in soft black strands. He felt a warm tongue meet his and he couldn’t supress a huff of surprise. Harry’s hands were now kneading his arse.

Things were progressing rather quickly.

Draco nipped on Harry’s lower lip, sweeping his soft tongue apologetic over the chewed on area before diving in once more, stroking over teeths and warm insides. He felt dizzy.

“God,” Harry whispered between kisses. The beautiful, perfect idiot kept pushing back, taking small gulps of air and muttering words. “I can’t believe this is finally happening. A year Draco. I’ve been mad about you for a year.”

Draco wondered if he should respond. He probably should. But he just had to keep on kissing, licking those soft lips, nuzzling those sharp cheekbones and keep returning for more.

Harry obliged him. They didn’t stop. Draco lost track of time after a while as they sat there in the abandoned car in the middle of the woods. The stars twinkled above them and their friends were seated a few hundred meters away, probably still lounging around their homemade fire, drinking beer and laughing.

Draco felt a hardness underneath him as he licked into Harry’s mouth. That was strange. Not that Harry was hard per se, see Draco was on the good way of getting there himself, but that this happened now, this very moment. They were still having their first kiss.

_Too quickly_ , a part of his brain whispered.

Harry’s hand wandered to the front of Draco’s trousers, squeezing his hardness gently. Draco let out a surprise gasp even as he licked over Harry’s slightly parted lips.

“Shite,” Harry whispered, kissing Draco quickly. “Are we moving too quickly?”

Yes, Draco wanted to say but Harry’s lips were just so tempting. So… addicting.

“Draco?” Harry tried to dislodge their lips and Draco didn’t like that. He just wanted to spend the rest of forever kissing Potter. He let out a whiny sound and pressed against Harry’s pushing hands, his lips desperately searching for Harry’s.

Harry didn’t look all that happy anymore. Rather, he looked downright horrified and perhaps on the verge of heartbreak.

“Draco?” his voice shook. His hands were holding Draco away even as Draco tried to fight the strength of Harry’s strong arms. He kept on whining, lips smacking and tongue running quickly over his own lips. A string of saliva started to drip down from his parted mouth.

_Ungraceful_ , Draco could almost here his father’s horrified voice.

Harry looked at Draco with large eyes. “No, no, no, no, no,” he mumbled as he kept holding Draco at bay. There was something alike tears gathering in the corners of his oh-so green eyes.

Draco couldn’t stop struggling, his arms reached, blindly grasping and his mouth kept on closing and opening. Longing. Desperate to kiss Harry. This was strange, that he behaved like this. And yet, he couldn’t stop.

“ _Stop_.”

Draco stilled. His whole body freezing because Harry had just said stop. And… yeah… stopping sounded like a really good idea. They had moved too quickly after all and what better way to cool down than stop.

Draco needed to cool down.

He stopped trying to get to Harry and just sat there on Harry’s strong thighs, motionless. Draco didn’t even wipe away the drool still connected to his lips in a fine string.

_Stop_ , right.

Harry looked at Draco with wide eyes for a second, breath escaping quickly as his hands fell to his sides. His eyes were slightly red and tears were falling silently as he turned his head to stare at the ceiling of the car.

“FUCK!” He screamed. Draco’s inner jerked at the sudden sound but his outer remained impassive, still. _Stopped_.

Harry’s chest rattled in the ringing silence.

“God, I’m so sorry,” Harry whispered as he fished up his phone.

Draco wanted to say that he didn’t have anything to apologise for, that Draco didn’t mind. But he was still so content with just being like this, with just staying still for Harry.

Harry was calling somebody. Draco wondered whom.

“Ron,” Harry’s voice was urgent. “Ron,” this time his voice was broken. Simply scattered remains of his usual dark tenor. “I fucked up. Please Ron,” Harry honest to god sobbed. Draco wanted to sooth Harry but he wasn’t able. He was still frozen, still just sitting there, unable to comfort one of the best people he’d ever had had the pleasure of knowing.

Wonderful, sassy, lovely Harry.

“Just come,” Harry sobbed. “Bring Hermione… I… I…” Harry choked twice. “I can’t do this alone.”

So Draco found himself remain passive as he watched Harry step out of the car, leaving him alone in the seat, still _stopped_. Draco wanted to look at Harry, see what was happening, but he could only look up at the dull ceiling, at the same angle which his head had fallen when Harry had moved him away from his lap.

So Draco listened.

Harry was crying, cursing somewhere outside. Wailing words like “She was fucking right about me” and “I am a freak.” Draco felt himself hurting on the inside whenever Harry’s voice broke, whenever his anger was replaced with a crippling sorrow. Luckily he didn’t have to suffer hearing Harry’s hurt for very long before Ron and Hermione arrived.

“Harry,” he heard Ron’s familiar voice. “Harry, mate,” there was a panicked tint to the words. “What’s going on? Talk to me? Where’s Draco?”

Harry seemed to breath heavily, his answer delayed. “In the car.”

There were footsteps and suddenly the door was yanked open. Draco didn’t see who opened the door; his eyes firmly stuck looking up.

“Fuck,” Ron’s voice was loud in the silent air. “Christ.”

Arms were looped around Draco’s middle as he was dragged out from the car onto the ground. He felt how careful hands placed him against the car’s side, his head finally turned forward by soft fingers. Ron was standing in front of him, his face flushed by alcohol no doubt and hair standing on end as always. But his eyes were surprisingly sober as he took in Draco’s state.

“What did you do to him?” Ron’s voice was muted, like he held a mill of emotions inside that he concealed with a wall of blankness.

Harry was sitting behind Ron, his face blotched and eyes puffy. Like he had been crying- Correction. Was _still_ crying. Hermione had placed a hand carefully over Harry’s shoulder, offering her silent support.

“I just told him to stop… I,” Harry closed his eyes, like the memory pained him. “Before that I must have used my command voice without noticing. Telling him to kiss… And he…” he broke off. “Ron,” Harry sounded scared… so, so scared. “I violated him.”

“Harry, no-” Hermione begun.

“I did,” Harry tore himself away from Hermione’s hand, his only comfort. “I might as well have raped him… I,” Harry’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling painfully. “I’m a fucking monster. I’m exactly like that sick fuck whom made Lily-” Harry broke off again, laughing. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. “No wonder she hates me.”

“Draco’s been in love with you since forever,” Hermione said firmly. “You’ve just both been too chicken to confess. Harry,” Hermione tried to approach again, getting fended off by a warning look. She sighed. “You didn’t violate him.”

Harry just shook his head, like he didn’t want to listen to her foul lies.

“Mate,” Ron sounded harder. Not soft like Hermione but close to commanding. “You have to unfreeze him.”

Harry nodded, like he knew that.

“Now Harry,” Ron’s voice was like steel, unbendable and forceful.

Harry nodded again, a small trembling breath escaping his lips. “He’ll hate me,” broke through, a sad, quiet whisper.

Ron nodded again. “He might. But I doubt it.”

Harry bent down in front of Draco, looking wrecked down to his very molecules. “Draco,” he whispered softly, lovingly. “You are so wonderful and I love you so much and…” he broke off once more. “You deserve so much more than me.” With a deep breath Harry seemed to gather himself. “ _Draco, be you_.”

Draco jerked as he felt himself unfreeze. He wiped the saliva from his mouth almost desperately. What…? God, what had happened?!

“Harry,” Draco hated the raw panic displayed in his voice but he was just so utterly lost. He felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, like he was a piece of clothing someone had just tried on before throwing away.

Draco tried to crawl to Harry but Harry had already backed away.

“Hey Draco,” Ron whispered as he grabbed a firm hold of Draco’s shoulders. “Hey look at me, you’re okay.”

“Harry?” Draco needed to get to Harry! Harry had been so sad, so heartbrokenly lonely. Harry had also said he loved Draco, that Draco was lovely and wonderful. “Harry goddamn you come here!”

But Harry didn’t come; instead he leaned on Hermione, crying into her shoulder. Draco whined, miserably. He was just so confused.

“Hey,” Ron said hugging Draco to his firm body. Draco wanted to protest but the contact felt nice, Ron’s broad arms securing him felt nice, like he was finally able to breath again. He felt the panic inside of him settle.

“Harry,” Draco still couldn’t help but whine, this time quiet, subdued, like he knew his whimpering and pleading would lead nowhere. He felt tired, like a wrung out rag. He sagged on Ron’s shoulder, allowing his head to rest in the crook of the redhead’s neck.

The night was still… quiet.

\- 17 years old -

Sirius watches Harry as he sat on the couch. His godson had turned into a proper giant, even larger than James.

Sure it might have been because of the endless of hours he spent in the gym working away his energy, something about it did apparently make it easier to keep his command voice in check. And Harry had become close to obsessed with it. He didn’t even want to command Sirius to let him up when they were roughhousing, not that he needed to be _let up_ much anymore. Sirius had thought that _he_ as a cop should forever have the advantage of superior fighting power but apparently not. Nowadays he found himself pinned down underneath a smirking Harry more often than not. The little rascal.

Correction, big rascal.

“Harry!” Dana screamed as she came running into the room, her pigtails flying behind her. Harry’s face broke out in a beam as he caught the laughing ball of red, throwing her up in the air without breaking a sweat.

“Dana, the Flying Defender of the Night!” Harry announced as Dana giggled and shouted in delight.

“Higher, higher!” she squealed.

Sirius couldn’t help but get a goofy look on his face as he watched Harry and Dana; they’d truly grown inseparable over the past two years, much to Lily’s chagrin.

“When are the rest coming?” Remus asked as he walked into the kitchen, shooting Sirius a tired smile before taking his place by the counter, already cutting the first onion.

Harry caught Dana and kissed her cheek with a _bwuaaaa_ sound that made the giggling girl in question let out a big, _Euuuw_. Dana quickly fled to Sirius when Harry put her down, climbing up beside him and giving him a peck on his scruffy cheek.

Sirius smiled at the small ten-year-old, her hair gleaming in the light of the fire.

“Any minute,” Harry answered Remus as he walked towards the kitchen island, starting to fill a pot with water. “Ron just texted that they’d picked up Draco.”

Remus nodded as he continued to chat with Harry. Sirius felt his concentration slip as Dana kept on jerking his shirtsleeve. “Pads,” she pleaded. “Let me borrow your phone. Pretty please?”

Sirius already knew the outcome of this battle and he silently handed over his phone to small and eager hands.

“Thank you!” Dana said with a beam and gave him another peck on the cheek.

Damn, Sirius was going soft.

For a few minutes the calm settled. Sirius was busy watching football on the TV while Remus and Harry moved around in the kitchen like proper chefs, Dana was totally emerged in a game of Plants versus Zombies. Kids.

The doorbell was loud in the silent pocket of calm. Dana’s eyes flickered up quickly before returning to the screen in front of her. Remus only shouted out a: “Can you get that Pads?”

Sirius sighed as he got up from the oh-so comfortable couch. The game was getting exciting and he lingered in their half living room half kitchen before finally allowing his feet to carry him into the hall. He opened the door while carefully kicking Dana’s shoes to the side to make room.

Room for ten seventeen-year-olds.

The door close to flew open as familiar faces appeared behind oaken wood.

“Sirius,” Ron exclaimed as he easily walked into the hall. He’d grown tall. Almost as tall as Harry but not quite. Only difference was that where Harry was buff Ron was wiry. Harry’s gym buddies were right behind though, Vince and Greg. They nodded towards Sirius while spilling into the hall, the flow of bodies forming a seemingly never-ending wave.

“Is Harry in the kitchen?” Hermione asked as she managed to squeeze through the door.

“Yes,” Sirius answered like the perfect doorman. “He and Moony is making dinner.”

Hermione lit up at that as she got out of her shoes and coat before hurrying along familiar walls.

“Hey Sirius!” Ginny shouted with a wave, Neville walking behind her wearing a goofy smile on his face. Sirius couldn’t help but notice how their hands were intertwined; the power couple was apparently still going strong.

“Neville, Ginny,” he greeted all proper. He wondered if he should have worn his suit and tie just to make the doorman-impression golden.

“Quite the party?” she asked with a teasing voice.

“You kids,” he said with a waver to his voice, playing up an old-man persona. “If I see one thing out of place tomorrow-”

“You’ll be too hungover to care,” a new voice spoke up. Sirius whirled around, just to be greeted by the face of Blaise and Pansy shuffling out of their shoes.

He gave Blaise a raised eyebrow. “Look who’s here, Mr I-can-drink-you-under-the-table-any-day.”

“It was a bad bet I’ll admit,” Blaise sounded slightly put off.

“You were losing so bad,” Pansy couldn’t help but blur out. “Dad over there was totally winning.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Don’t call me dad, Diaper. I’ll have you know I’m yet to turn forty.”

“Please, you’re thirty-nine,” another new, yet familiar, voice sighed.

Sirius allowed his eyes to shift and there he was, Draco Lucius Malfoy. “Well, if it isn’t Mr Bleached himself.”

Draco stuck out his tongue towards Sirius like the little brat that he was. “It’s my natural hair-colour.”

“Yeah, Dolly Parton said the same thing.”

“Fuck you.”

Sirius couldn’t help but bark out a laugh at the crude remark. “What happened to that nobleman’s mouth of yours?”

Draco rolled his eyes as he dragged Astoria in after him. She was busy staring at her phone, her dark hair elegantly falling like a curly waterfall over her shoulder. She truly was quite pretty. Even Sirius had to admit that despite how he’d found himself charmed by the nerdy-librarian-look of late.

Draco gave Astoria a quick kiss before reaching for the shoehorn (of course Malfoy would use a shoehorn) and slipping out of his oxfords with little hassle. Astoria simply switched her high-heels for a pair of indoors not-quite-so-high heels.

“Harry is in the kitchen, right?” Draco’s face might have appeared non-caring, blank, but Sirius knew better. Sadly, he knew it all.

He nodded with a half-hearted smile. “He’s helping Remus with the food.”

Draco nodded curtly as he dragged Astoria with him through the hall, hurrying towards the sounds of laughter and chatter further in.

Sirius found himself standing alone by the small mountain of shoes. He sighed as he started to shuffle the shoes away from blocking the doorway using his feet. The mountain fell sideways and Sirius entertained himself by kicking the shoes towards the wall, each sneaker bouncing against the gold-brown tapestry before falling randomly on the ebony floor.

He hesitated when it came to the oxfords though, his own childhood haunting him as he could almost hear his mother’s disapproving voice. They were obviously cared for, impeccable in appearance, much like their owner.

Sirius felt something ache as he remembered rain, tears, anger and so much hurt. Why couldn’t it just be fucking easy? Why couldn’t Harry simply have taken the risk, anything must have been better than this? Surely.

Watching someone you love happy with someone else, what a happy fucking ending.

Sirius shook his head angrily as he returned to the other room. His dark thoughts dispatching as he got an eyeful of Dana drawing a flower on Ginny’s cheek. With their red hair and brown eyes, they looked very much like sisters.

Harry was standing in the corner, talking to Draco with soft eyes despite the distance between them, a few painful inches.

Sirius sat down beside Ron. “How’s it going?” he asked and allowed his gaze to graze Harry and Draco in the kitchen.

Ron sighed, some happiness leaking out of his expression. This was supposed to be a happy occasion. The winter holidays had just begun and everyone were happy. Well, everyone _appeared_ happy. A vital difference.

“Harry probably still cries himself to sleep,” Ron muttered. “You should know that better than me.”

Sirius nodded. It had been a while since he woke to the sound of silent sobbing, but that was maybe because Harry had become smarter? Maybe he’d trained himself to muffle the sound of wet breaths and gasps? Sirius hoped not. He hoped Harry had gotten over Draco despite knowing with almost certainty he never would. Harry was loyal to a fault, the only time that Sirius knew of when Harry had kissed someone else than Mr Blonde and Limber was _that_ night.

That he’d turned up on their doorstep with red eyes and trembling hands whispering: “He deserves better. This was the only way,” only strengthen Sirius’ conviction that Harry Potter’s heart had settled and would remain settled until it stopped beating.

Which made this all so much more painful.

“But making Draco forget,” Sirius sighed, the loud chatter drowning out his words to anyone not seated directly beside him. “He’s never done that to anyone before.”

Ron shrugged his shoulders. “What can you do,” his voice sounded tired, like he’d had this argument in his mind a thousands of times before. He probably had. “It was his call I guess. The worst part is just that I think Draco wouldn’t have minded.”

Sirius felt so frustrated he wanted to cry. Of-fucking-course Draco wouldn’t have minded! He was still fucking smitten with Harry despite having a girlfriend. They were still dancing around each other, the other one watching whenever the other one was looking away.

Harry was such a damn fool. And it was all Lily’s fault.

Without a doubt Sirius was certain that this was Lily’s fault. If she hadn’t treated Harry like… like he was his biological father’s legacy when he was anything but, then _maybe_ Harry wouldn’t hate himself. Then maybe he would be the one Draco pecked on the cheek and held hands with and simply _was_ with. Maybe then he would have tried to solve the mess that happened eight months ago instead of running from it. Terrified Draco would see him as some sort of evil monster, a freak. The exact same words Lily loved to spew out whenever Harry as much as moved a muscle in her vicinity.

James ought to fucking divorce the fucking cunt. Victim or not, she was ruining Harry’s life. His own mother!

Much like Sirius’ own mother once had tried to do.

“Look,” Ron muttered and nodded towards where Astoria had snuck up to Draco’s side, nuzzling into his side where he stood in front of Harry. Draco turned to ask Astoria something, his expression a bit annoyed as always when someone interrupted his Harry-time. It made Sirius smile despite it all.

Harry on the other hand was close to glaring a hole straight through Astoria’s head, his gaze narrowing dangerously. It was a bit disheartening. A bit too dangerous because Harry was in love and Astoria was not only the girlfriend of his crush – or lets be honest, love – but she also tended to get cuddly after a beer or two.

It would be so easy for Harry to snarl something. Anything at all.

Sadly he wouldn’t. Harry truly hated using his command voice nowadays, only did it whenever it was really, truly necessary. Like stopping-a-child-from-running-into-the-street-in-front-of-a-car-going-fifty-miles-an-hour necessary.

“There is no way this is going be anything but painful,” Sirius sighed as Harry turned away from the couple and started to talk to Hermione animatedly. Draco stared at Harry’s back longingly, his face so heartbreakingly open before a familiar veil turned the aristocrat’s features blank once more.

“No,” Ron agreed as Draco’s attention returned to Astoria, his lips lingering on hers as they kissed once more. Draco’s eyes were still tracing Harry’s broad back even as he slowly kissed his girlfriend. “there isn’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, another chapter :)
> 
> This week and the next will be super busy for me but I still wanted to keep this story going so hope you enjoyed the chapter!   
> Comments and kudos are as always appreciated and helps keep me motivated. 
> 
> Anyway! Stay awesome! I’m out ;)


	4. Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings are found in the tags. Might be some misspellings since English isn’t my mother language; feel free to comment if you find any ghastly ones. This fic is set in an alternative universe. Enjoy.

\- 18 years old -

Remus stared at the broad man pacing in their kitchen. He appeared to be on the older side of fifty despite his impressive barrel chest and intimidating frame. There was a scar along the man’s chin and one of his eyes was hidden beneath an eyepatch. The grey suit he was wearing seemed to fit like a second skin. _This_ … Remus thought with a heavy heart, _this is the end_.

Harry came in through the doorway, his large body bending inwards, making the usually proud figure appear small, meek. It wasn’t like Harry at all and Remus wanted to fix it. He wanted it badly enough to pray to a god he’d never felt any need to acknowledge. _Please God if you’re up there. Fix this. Please. I’ll do anything._

But god didn’t answer. Instead Sirius appeared behind Harry, his usually bright eyes dull and his lips turned downwards. Like he knew. The ever-optimistic persona Remus had found himself fallen for nowhere to be seen.

Harry sat down. Close. Pressing against Remus side like he was seeking shelter. It reminded Remus bitterly about Harry when he’d been young and scared. When he’d searched the company of books and cups of tea to forget nightmares. When he’d cuddled into Remus with the faint whisper of “had a bad dream.”

Just like now.

Because this was a nightmare, nothing more, nothing less.

“So,” the man said as he’d paced back and forth one more time. “Harry Potter,” he nodded towards Harry where he sat silently and watchful.

“Yes,” Harry answered, his large hands knotted tightly in his lap. Remus wanted to hug him, wanted to whisper that things would be okay, that they would work it all out. But they wouldn’t.

It was out in the open now. Everybody knew.

“Two days ago you stopped a bank robbery is that correct,” the man asked with a harsh voice, like he dared Harry to oppose him.

But Harry didn’t, he was entirely deflated as he pressed closer to Remus, obviously trying to seek comfort. Remus allowed his hand to softly rub Harry’s back, wishing there was something more he could offer. Like for two days ago not to have happened.

“This thing you do,” the man continued, Remus couldn’t for the life of his recall the man’s name. “You hypnotise people? Correct?”

Harry nodded slowly, his eyes dull and his back trembling underneath Remus’ palm. “In a way. People…” Harry swallowed. “People tend to do what I tell them sometimes.”

“And can you control when ‘ _sometimes’_ occur?” The agent still sounded harsh, almost angry in the way he interrogated Harry. Remus glanced over at Sirius who glared at the man from where he leaned against the kitchen island. His arms crossed over his broad chest and eyes narrowed dangerously.

Harry hesitated. “Usually,” he let out softly.

The man nodded curtly and paced back and forth two more times before stopping in front of Sirius, his visible eye hard and calculating. “Harry’s different,” he said while looking at Sirius’ hostile form. He turned his head towards Remus and Harry. “I’m not saying that it’s a bad thing. Actually it could be a very good thing.”

Harry’s breath started coming out quicker, his bent beginning to uncurl a bit.

“A good thing,” the whisper sounded hesitant but also so full of hope. Of desperate hope.

“Sir,” Remus began as he saw how Harry went from crushed to hopeful. But Remus had a bad feeling about all this, a really, really bad feeling. “We know it can be a _good_ thing.” Remus measured his words carefully before allowing them to spill over his lips. “It’s just that it could also easily be a _bad_ thing.”

It was almost visible; the way Harry’s flicker of hope went out.

Remus couldn’t help but hate himself a little.

“It is,” Harry said underneath his breath. “It’s a bad thing sir. Nobody should possess this kind of power.”

The agent left Sirius and approached the couch. He bent down slowly, a firm expression on his face. “Son,” he said, voice a bit softer. “That’s what they said when man invented the gun. And yes,” he continued, voice growing firmer. “The gun might have done the world many disfavours, but! It’s also been a good thing.”

Harry looked up at the man, his eyes wide, a bit curious.

“The best way to make something dangerous less dangerous,” the man continued, “is by controlling it completely. We can help you with that.”

“Who are we?” Sirius took a step towards the couch, his body almost vibrating with unease.

The man glanced at Sirius, his gaze hard. “We’re specialised in the unpredictable and Harry…” he gave Harry a quick smile, a golden tooth shimmering among white ones, “…is certainly unpredicted. But not unwanted.”

Harry still looked unsure, but he didn’t tremble underneath Remus’ hand anymore. Remus would have loved to say the knowledge soothed him, but it didn’t. Because Harry was looking at the agent with interest and _god no_ , please don’t let him take Harry away.

“Harry,” the man crouched down in front of the couch, placing one of his fry-pan sized hands on Harry’s shoulder. Despite Harry being broad, muscular, he seemed small in comparison. “We can help you control it. We can help you and guarantee nobody is harmed in the process and in return…” the man’s eye stared intently at Harry. “In return you get to help people.”

Harry leaned forward, as if spellbound. “You can’t promise that,” he breathed out, but he sounded hesitant, like he thought that maybe they actually could.

Remus wanted to scream, to hold Harry close and make the large agent leave and never come back. Harry had only told the robbers to lay down their weapons and sit in a corner, just like he’d done in Remus’ bookshop all those years ago. Harry didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve whatever this _was_.

Remus felt himself start to shake. Had this been inventible all along? Sirius, Ron, Hermione and him had done their outmost to prevent this from happening. Their absolute outmost.

And yet.

Harry’s eyes were close to glowing as he listened to this one eyed agent. Remus would have to be an idiot not to see how Harry had within minutes become convinced that following the agent laid in his best interest.

And maybe it did. But then again… maybe it didn’t.

All that Remus knew that he didn’t want to lose Harry. Please God don’t let him lose Harry. His hand tightened on Harry’s arm, like maybe if he held on hard enough Harry would stay.

It was a stupid thought. But please let it come true.

“I would be saving people?” Harry asked, his voice stronger.

“Harry you can’t listen to this-” Sirius butted in while gesturing towards the agent.

“Moody,” the agent, apparently Moody, answered.

“-man,” Sirius settled on. “You’ve met him for all of five minutes and… and…”

“Pads,” Harry said his eyes pleading. “ _I_ can help people.”

“ _You’re_ already helping people,” Remus tried despite knowing that it was already over. It was already goddamn over. He clutched Harry tighter; suppressing the knowledge that maybe this could be one of the last times he would hold Harry in a long, long time.

“No I don’t,” Harry breathed out, his own arm settling over Remus, pressing them closer together like he too knew…

One last time.

“Harry listen to yourself,” Sirius sounded choked up. It was horrible. Everything was horrible.

The agent, the man who’d walked in and shattered everything into small unfixable pieces rose from his crouching position.

“Think about it,” he said forwarding a card. “Any questions and you can call whenever. Make up your mind before Saturday and we’ll talk more.”

Harry took the card. Remus wanted to burn it.

“I will,” Harry answered with determination, back already straightening like a soldier’s in front of a commander. “I will.”

\- 19 years old -

“Hey!”

Seamus let go of the gun with his right hand and wiped the sweaty palm on his trousers quickly. He held it in front of him quickly as the unfamiliar man approached, the man’s hand extended as well. The raven-haired man shook it firmly as they nodded towards one another. The man was large like so many others in the military, hair gelled back rather than buzzed off, but then again… the man had flown in with the special agents. Obviously the usual rules didn’t apply to him.

“ _What’s the situation_?”

Seamus shivered at the dark rumble that made his back straighten on instinct; words flowed out of his mouth before he even knew he’d opened it. “Guards everywhere and some sort of literal mine-field between the villa and the wall around. We can only imagine the inside.”

“ _You don’t know_?”

Seamus shook his head as well as confirming it with a firm “No.”

The man furrowed his eyebrows as he looked back towards the small troop he’d brought along. “Oh well,” he muttered as he gestured for the people to come forward.

There was a small woman dancing forward, her mouth opened in a mad grin, Seamus couldn’t help the shiver traveling down his spine. She gave him the creeps. As the rest came up, all of them moving casually like this was a walk in the park rather than a battlefield, Seamus decided they all gave him the creeps. Them as well as the rave haired man assessing the house with hard green eyes.

“Hello pup,” the crazy woman purred as she gave the raven-haired man a nod. “What’s for _dinner_ today?”

“Not now Bella,” he muttered as he kept staring at the house, seemingly coming up with a strategy. “What do you think of the gate?” he asked her.

“Easy,” was all she answered with a wolfish grin. “Isn’t that right Severus?” she turned around and addressed another man, this one also with raven hair but without the hard eyes. To be frank, Seamus thought the man appeared bored maybe a bit annoyed.

The man called Severus looked at the iron gate for a minute or two before addressing the raven-haired man with hard eyes. “Easy,” he confirmed.

The raven-haired man nodded in answer. “Good.”

The group split up like on command, the crazy woman leaving towards the tanks together with the other raven-haired man. The desert felt suddenly quiet.

“So,” Seamus dared to say as the group spread out, leaving only him and the first man alone yet again. “You’re used to messes like these?”

The man glanced down at him. Yeah… Seamus was usually the taller one but for once he was glaringly defeated in that department. “You could say that.”

“Are you located here,” Seamus gestured to the dry dessert around them, “or back home?”

The man shrugged again, apparently not in a mood for chatter. “Depends. Usually not home though.”

“So not usually home means not usually Britain?”

“Yes.”

Seamus nodded, allowing the conversation to fade as the man continued to take in the house, green eyes flickering and arms crossed. Seamus was just standing beside him, unsure if he was dismissed or needed for more.

The silence was only broken my far-off voices and the desert wind.

“ _Where’s camp_?” the man asked after a few minutes. Seamus immediately straightened and pointed towards the base with his whole arm. “Two hours south of here.”

“Right,” the man turned back towards their army car. “ _Come along_.”

Seamus legs seemed directly wired to the man’s words, he’d never obeyed a command this fast in his life. It made something inside of Seamus clench uncomfortable, like he wasn’t in control, like maybe he was in danger. Which was ridiculous of course, there wasn’t any danger, they’d cleared the area a week ago and there were multiple soldiers between them and the house (or rather fortress). He wasn’t in danger.

“ _Get in_.”

Seamus was suddenly seated. He felt jittery and his mind was reeling. He hadn’t wanted to get into the car. Not yet. Dean was still to show so _why_ had Seamus gotten in the car??

“Excuse me-”

“ _Not now_.”

Seamus couldn’t talk.

Seamus couldn’t talk. Well why should he talk? It wasn’t like he had anything interesting to say anyway. This stranger was right; whatever Seamus wanted to say could wait. Or could it?

He tried to say something, anything. He just couldn’t. There was a swelling feeling of panic inside of him and suddenly Seamus didn’t like this anymore. There was something wrong with his brain, it kept on telling him to relax and just go along but- but… There was something going on. Something really, really bad.

Seamus had dodged bullets and sprinted from grenades but never before had he felt this frightened, so completely out of control. It made him want to get far away from the raven-haired Englishman still standing outside the vehicle, now talking to the crazy woman from earlier.

“Just tell them to shoot themselves in the head and the guards will be _poof_! Gone,” the girl giggled disturbingly, like she thought her idea cute.

Seamus was still panicking. There was a growing sense of fear at his immobility. Because while he couldn’t talk he also couldn’t move. Well, not much. Just shuffle around a little bit, creating just enough movement so not to disturb anyone.

It wasn’t reassuring. Because Seamus was stuck. And panicking. And now this loopy lady that looked more like a murderer than a special troops agent was talking about what? Killing people?

“It’s not funny Bella,” the man said disapprovingly. “But seriously, how do we know if they’ve heard about me? How do we find out if they have earplugs like the last time?”

“Well, nobody would willingly shoot themselves in the head so then we would know for sure-”

“I’m _not_ telling anyone to shoot themselves in the head-”

“Shame.”

Seamus felt the panic build underneath his skin. He wanted to puke really, really badly. Because there was something inside his head, something not unlike a drug coaxing him to allow this to happen, to not care.

How could he not care?! Especially when they were talking about _murder_. Not battle, but _murder_.

“Well, the ‘drop-your-guns-and-lay-on-the-ground’ is getting old.”

“Bella,” the man sighed, irritation evident in his gruff voice. “Shut up.”

“Or what,” her voice sounded joyful. “You gonna make me?”

The man didn’t answer. Instead he paced towards the car in which Seamus was sitting still, altering between the false feeling of everything being right and the right feeling of panic. Because he wanted to panic, almost as much as he wanted to vomit and get as far away from the raven-haired man as possible.

“Common Harry,” the woman called as she was ignored. The man named Harry opened the front door to the car and sat down behind the wheel. “Is it Blondie again?”

The man, Harry, froze for a second. Apparently that was all the woman needed.

“So what if he’s getting engaged?” She let out an ugly laugh. “Just because you fucked him once before departing you thought he would leave her for you? He’s a fucking Malfoy, people like him doesn’t end up marrying people like us-”

“ _SHUT UP_!”

The air was suddenly quiet. Eerily quiet.

Seamus felt the bile more than ever in the back of his throat. His teeth were as glued together. He couldn’t produce a single sound. He couldn’t even move anymore, not even an inch.

Harry breathed harshly as his giant fists clutched the wheel. “ _Shut up, shut up, shut up_ …” he muttered underneath his breath and Seamus felt how his entire being tried to obey his command. His breath turned shorter, turned to almost nothing. The lack of air made his lungs ache, but he had to be quiet. Entirely quiet.

The woman was frozen as well, her hands hovering uselessly above the ground, as if she’d maybe tried to gesture something before getting shut down. Seamus brain hurt almost as much as his lungs.

“ _Don’t you **ever** talk about him to me again_.”

Despite the words being directed towards the woman, Seamus swore to himself that he would never, ever talk to Harry about this Malfoy fellow. Never. Ever.

He wondered if the thought was his own or the coaxing voice’s inside his head. He suspected that no matter which it was, for once both agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, another chapter, hope you’re still with me :)
> 
> First of, I don't know all that much about the military at all so I might very well be wrong about details.
> 
> Also, personally, there’s a lot going on the following two weeks but after that my summer vacation will start which is awesome! :D Usually I try to post 7000 words every two weeks during the summer and I’ll absolutely be able to post this fic (which is roughly 3000 words/chapter) at least once a week! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are as always appreciated and helps keep me motivated. 
> 
> Anyway! Stay awesome! I’m out ;)


	5. An Odd Picnic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings are found in the tags. Might be some misspellings since English isn’t my mother language; feel free to comment if you find any ghastly ones. This fic is set in an alternative universe. Enjoy.

\- 20 years old -

Draco was sometimes unsure if Harry existed or if he’d been a childhood dream.

He looked into the mirror as he straightened his shirt, the pristine white fabric illuminating his just as pale skin. He looked decent he supposed. Sleeves neatly rolled up over his elbows and dark trousers falling close along his long legs. Astoria would approve.

Draco’s eyes glanced over the familiar photo edge peaking out from a book. Or not just _a_ book. To be precise it was _the_ book. A book to keep letters in, a book to write letters with, its easily removable pages perfect in size for their purpose. What a stupid purpose.

But yet, Draco couldn’t help but fish out the photo, its edges fraying and its gleam dull. There he was. Harry fucking Potter. So frightfully alive with his strong arms thrown over Draco and Ginny. His grin lovely and eyes blazing green.

It had been taken four years ago.

Draco sighed. Suddenly tired.

He put back the photo in the book, the empty book with all its blank pages and empty folders. No letters neither received nor sent.

Draco glanced at himself one last time. Fingers traveling down the long expanse of his throat, then underneath the shirt’s collar. His fingers bumped into a rough chain, the feeling as familiar as skin by this point. He really ought to get rid of it. He really, really ought to. After all, it was nothing but pain nowadays, a maybe that never had happened, a life that never _would_ happen.

Just as Harry was gone somewhere so was also whatever they might have had. Draco wasn’t even sure Harry existed more than in his head. Not with all of Draco’s new friends knowing nothing about him, not with Astoria sighing heavily every time he mentioned his name. Like Draco was being difficult.

If only she’d known.

Draco shut down that trail of thoughts quickly. Today he had to concentrate on the picnic at the Greengrass manor, a picnic with his future parents in law. Today wasn’t one of _those_ days. Draco had already decided so weeks ahead.

He allowed the chain to hide underneath his collar against better judgment before putting on his new oxfords, these black with swirling engravings, quite beautiful if he dared say so himself.

One last look in the mirror displayed impeccable perfection and he tried on a charming smile. It felt a bit stiff and it looked the part, but perhaps it wasn’t too noticeable for two old foxes with their sight set on their daughter’s happiness – meaning the Malfoy fortune and name – rather than the man himself.

Draco wished his mother and father could have attended the picnic (“no it’s called outside dinner _dear_ ,” Astoria had reminded him more than once). At least then he might have felt less nervous… or perhaps the proper feeling should be _more_ nervous.

He wasn’t sure.

Draco decided to walk there. It wasn’t all that far away from the dorms. The dorms that were stony halls filled with chattering students and sunlit corners.

While walking down the corridors he nodded to John, Nick and Eric where they lounged about in the common area, surrounded by the usual crowd. They called after him, something about a party.

Draco declined with a smile and kept walking.

It was comfortable, attending university. He’d always known he’d end up at one of course; his father wouldn’t have it any other way. And the student life suited him. There were so many people here, clever ones, beautiful ones and even heroic ones. Not that Draco looked at anyone but Astoria, he wouldn’t… not again.

Draco forced his step to become longer, if nothing else than to force his mind to focus on the _now_.

The university of stone and grand grass fields turned briefly to city before Draco saw the familiar sight of the Greengrass manor. Security allowed him to enter without fuss, his appearance familiar enough by now not to warrant a check in the guest list.

The driveway was long; just as so many driveways were when connected to manors. Draco walked forward with ease, the sun warm but not uncomfortable so when accompanied by the cool wind.

Astoria was standing by the stairs leading up to the manor, meeting him.

“Draco,” she called out with a smile.

Draco smiled back, some stiffness still in his lips. “Astoria,” he called back before taking the last two steps and greeting her with soft kiss on strawberry flavoured lips.

She looked quite stunning in her blue summer dress, the sleeveless dress reaching her knees in a waterfall of linen. The dress was elegant in the way it hugged her upper body before proceeding to fall after reaching her hips.

When their lips parted Astoria appeared, for once, utterly happy.

“You look beautiful,” Draco said truthfully. He smiled again despite the slight drop in his stomach.

Astoria simply laughed in delight. “You look beautiful as well,” she said with a warm smile, her right hand finding his and clasping their palms together. Draco looked down at the petite hand in his. The chain around his neck felt suddenly heavy. Like the iron had decided to burn into his skin like so many times before.

He really should stop wearing it. He really, really should.

“Are your parents already in the garden then?” Draco asked as they started to walk around the grand building. There were cars lined up on the parking lot, lots of cars actually.

“Yes, them and the guests.”

_Guests_?

Draco should have realised this sooner probably. Just, he’d imagined that this picnic would be about him in a way. He’d been engaged to Astoria for a little more than a year now and despite him having met her parents many times at gatherings and whatnot he’d imagined this to be the time to sit down, just the four of them, and talk.

Apparently not.

“So,” Draco said carefully as they rounded a corner. “There’s a lot of people attending I gather?”

Astoria looked slightly guilty for a second or two before she nodded firmly. “Yes,” her reply was as if nothing was wrong. And why wouldn’t it be? Nothing was wrong. So why did this all suddenly feel slightly off?

“Astoria?” Draco felt a bit worried.

She sighed. “It should have been just the four of us,” she confirmed, kind enough to skip the ‘ _I-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about’_ charade. “But since dad’s active in the National Party he’s expected to have these kinds of gatherings…”

Draco didn’t know why his unease increased; he’d been to political gatherings before. In fact, his own dad had been politically active a short while, hosting many fundraisers and the like in _their_ back yard. This wasn’t a new scene for him in any way.

“So who are the guests?”

Draco was thinking about maybe Prime Minister Fudge or Mrs Bones from the Ministry of Defence? Or maybe it was just a jumble of people from the House of Lords and the National Party?

Astoria exhaled, “You’ll see.”

Draco felt his unease increase at the words. What did she mean?

They rounded the last corner, muted sounds of laughter and chatter already in the air. Draco’s eyes swept over the scene.

Oh.

Military.

Men and some women were walking around in black suits with small markings scattered on the upper front of the jackets. There were other’s who simply wore colourful dresses or light coloured suits without any markings on. Draco was unsure if these people belonged to the military as well or if they were family members. However it was, the garden was full of young people in their prime as well as older gents and ladies with harsh lines in their faces, eyes steely and calculating while clutching a glass of champagne in their sturdy hands.

Draco felt terrible out of place.

He’d always been on the slim side, his long legs and wiry torso elegant but undeniably soft. The way he was dressed (too casually a voice whispered inside his head) made him stand out like a sore thumb. The feeling of unease increased. If only he’d brought a blazer or something… Anything would be better than a white shirt that was practically glowing when hit by sunshine.

“Really,” he said airily to Astoria, refusing to let the knots in his stomach show. “Military?”

“Yes,” she replied. “You’ll do fine. Mrs Bones is here as well; you’ve met her before? Right?”

“You could have mentioned this-” Draco gestured towards the hundreds of people milling in the grand garden, “-earlier.”

Astoria sighed. “Don’t be like that.” Her voice was curt. Very unlike her usual behaviour, where she cuffed him on the arm if it was something he did that she disapproved of. Draco had liked that approach more, being like this – dressed neatly with a disapproving voice – she reminded him of other people. To be more precise noble people with calculating eyes and manipulative words that were kind to him because of his family and that reason _alone_.

Draco hated those kinds of people. Had met enough of them growing up and selected his friends with that in mind.

He didn’t get why Astoria was being like this. She’d never been before. For some reason it felt like a trap being set up around him, a trap he was walking straight into.

_Ridiculous_. The notion was simply ridiculous.

“Fine,” Draco settled on after watching the crowd move lazily between the garden tents, chatting idly with one another. Mr Fudge was there, dressed in a dark suit. He was currently busy talking to Mrs Greengrass and Mr Greengrass. Right. Astoria’s parents.

“Come on then,” Astoria said as she tugged at his hand. “Mom and dad are waiting.”

Draco let out a breath, trying to calm his racing nerves. This was just all rather unexpected, that was the _only_ reason for his unease. He allowed himself to be tugged down the hill from the house. The chatter rose in volume as they approached the crowd of fit men and women, every one of them bloody tall, like being a giant was one of the requirements for joining the army.

Astoria seemed to know several of the military personas invited as she nodded to the right and left, letting out small _hellos_ and _long time no seens_. Draco found himself slightly impressed by the fluency of it all. She truly was raised as a real lady despite how she liked to sit glued to her phone for hours and hit anyone who was behaving “stupid” as she liked to call it.

He couldn’t help but adore her for her usual snarky behaviour.

Now on the other hand, with her walking around greeting people like a shark snapping fish, he was impressed sure, but it wasn’t worth adoration. Not _this_.

They moved through the crowd in a rather speedy manner despite how Astoria seemed to be in a constant state of exchanging pleasantries. Draco followed along, throwing out a nod to the occasional familiar face, Mrs Bones one of them.

“How is your father,” she’d asked as Draco moved past, his hand still intertwined with Astoria’s.

“He’s fine,” Draco had replied while walking by. “I’ll tell him you said ‘Hi’.”

Mrs Bones had given him a smile filled of approval and slight warmth. “You do that,” she’d concluded their conversation with before returning to talk to a one-eyed giant. Probably a commander of sorts with the way his face was marred by scars.

Not long after they arrived to the hosts of the party. Astoria’s parents.

“Ma’am,” Draco kissed Mrs Greengrass’ hand with practise. “Sir.”

Mr Greengrass smiled at him, eyes appeasing, but not cold. “Good to see you Draco,” he smiled before offering him a glass of bubbly, liquid gold. Draco took the glass of champagne, releasing his grip of Astoria’s hand as Mr Greengrass’ arm stretched over his shoulders.

Mr Greengrass gave Draco a razor sharp smile without removing his arm. “Why don’t you and I take a walk?”

Draco knew the cue all too well and allowed himself to be steered away from his fiancé and her mother. Astoria sent him a small smile as he was led away but for some reason the tilt of her mouth didn’t quite reach her eyes. Draco tried to calm himself, she was stressed or something probably. After all, her dad was walking away with her fiancé, anyone ought to be nervous, not the least Draco.

The arm around his shoulders felt heavy as they neared the entrance to the Greengrass’ grand hedge maze. The sun kept beating down; it’s rays suddenly unbearably hot.

They stopped close to the entrance, thankfully in the shadow. Mr Greengrass kept his arm slung over Draco’s shoulders, his other hand clutching a glass of whiskey instead of the distributed champagne. “It’s quite grand,” he noted as he took a long sip of his whiskey. “The maze.”

Draco nodded along, the chain around his neck pressing into his skin more than ever thanks to the arm entrapping his shoulders. “It is,” he simply replied.

Mrs Greengrass took another long sip. Draco couldn’t help but fidget slightly. “Do you want to try it?”

Draco felt confused for a tiny second. Try what? But as his gaze turned forward towards endless of green, he got it, probably.

“Ehm… you mean the maze sir?”

“Of course,” the man bellowed with a laugh. Despite the laugh it was unclear if the sound coming out of his mouth had been due to joy or not. Draco stiffened. This was not what he’d expected at all.

“Ah,” he tried to buy time because he suddenly realised that he _really_ didn’t want to enter the maze. “I think I’ll pass this time.”

“Why?” The man squeezed his shoulder tightly. “Too good for walking through mazes?”

Draco shook his head, confused and wary. “No sir. But… perhaps we should get back to Astoria?”

Mr Greengrass shook his head, the man’s whiskey glass being emptied in a few gulps as the man threw the brownish liquid down enthusiastically. Or perhaps desperately? Draco felt worry eat away at him. “Just walk in to the damn maze Malfoy.”

A rough shove made Draco take a few unwilling steps forward. He turned around, more surprised than angry. “Sir?” he didn’t want to fight or cause a scene, the very thought unimaginable. His parents sure had raised him after the Malfoys’ core values.

“Just walk a bit,” the man said, looking tired all of a sudden. “Just walk a bit and come back later.”

Draco didn’t know what to do. But as he stared at the unmovable man, Mr Greengrass, host of this party, the father to his fiancé, possible a drunkard, he found himself reluctantly moving into the maze.

“Alright then,” he answered with a calm voice. Keeping his face in check as not to betray his inner turmoil as he took another step, not so much towards the maze as away from Mr Greengrass. “Alright.”

Mr Greengrass fidgeted where he stood, feet moving restlessly and hands gripping and un-gripping around nothing. He didn’t seem in a hurry to move, eyes tracking Draco’s every step as he slowly but surely backed away into the maze, champagne glass clutched hard in his hand.

He started backing around a green corner, uneasy about letting the host of the party out of his sight. He took a step right, finally separating himself from Mr Greengrass with a twelve feet tall hedge. He turned around quickly before rushing further into the maze, constantly looking over his shoulder, afraid Mr Greengrass would take up chase.

This was ludicrous. And still… Draco felt a building panic eat away at his insides. He couldn’t stop his legs from carry him further along just as he couldn’t stop his heart from hammering away in fear.

What was going on?!

He needed to call someone… right? But what would he say?

‘ _Hello my fiancés father acted threatening towards me_?’

The police would probably say something along the lines of: _that’s part of it all chap_. Or his mother would lecture him, telling him not to be an idiot. His father wouldn’t even deem his plea would a response, the disappointing silence more telling than anything.

Draco himself started to doubt what had just transpired.

Mr Greengrass must have been drunk, surely. But at the same time his instinct was screaming at him that something was off, that something was terrible wrong and had been from the moment he’d arrived. Astoria was ridden with guilt and acting strange, then the military and Mr Greengrass himself…

Draco slowed his hasty jog to a brisk walk. He looked over his shoulder once more before taking a right. He wondered if this were all a bad dream, everything would be so much easier if it was.

He allowed his slim hand to grab hold of the chain around his neck, mapping out the iron with deft fingers. He listened as the plates at the end of the chain clinking together underneath his shirt. The familiar sound calming him somewhat as he took another right, then a left.

His mind was racing as he wondered what in the bloody hell he should do now?? Go back? Would he even manage to find his way out of here though? Draco slowed to a stop as the thought hit him.

He really didn’t want to wander the Greengrass’ hedge maze for hours and hours. He turned around from where he’d come. The thick green was everywhere. There was no way for Draco to find his way out of here by memory, not when it was muddled by feelings of panic and desperation. He’d just wanted to get away from Mr Greengrass as quickly as possible… he hadn’t cared about direction.

Draco sighed, wondering if back or forward was the right way to proceed. He had no clue, none at all.

In the end Draco opted for walking forward, he knew he was nearing the centre of the maze by the way pillars had started to show up. The marble blocks smooth and carved with finesse. It graced the maze with a slight feeling of being in Greece, or maybe Italy?

There didn’t seem to be any people walking in the maze except Draco since the air was silent. Even the chatter from the party had seized and Draco felt very much alone as he wandered green halls.

The pillars grew closer in between, sometimes even connecting with vaults between them. Draco took a last right and there it was. The centre.

There was a big fountain in the middle, made of marble as well and the pillars formed an open room with the way they connected in a round circle. Draco took a relieved breath as he could clearly see a map on the other side of the clearing.

A way out.

“Draco?”

Draco felt himself freeze at the voice. Nothing more than a dark rumble really, but he knew it all too well. He’d dreamt about that voice, he’d grown up with it, he’d kept on missing it despite how he really, really shouldn’t.

He turned around and yes… there he was. Harry.

But it wasn’t _his_ Harry.

This Harry wasn’t smiles and blazing green eyes. This Harry wasn’t adorable with blushing cheeks and a righteousness matching that of Superman. This Harry wasn’t kindness personified. This Harry was different.

Harry’s eyes were hard from where he leaned against a pillar, the darkness of his clothes a stark contrast to the white marble behind him. His hair wasn’t a wild mess, now gel forced it back from his face, allowing just a straw or two to escape. His face was beautiful as always and even though Harry had lost his puffy cheeks years ago, now he looked even more angular. Like he, just as the pillars, was carved out of marble.

This wasn’t Harry whom Draco had loved for years. This was someone else. Draco felt the chain around his neck shift slightly.

“Draco,” this new and terrifying Harry said again. And was it just Draco or did his voice sound darker, more sinister?

“Harry,” Draco replied, his voice short, distant. He tried not to remember their last encounter one and a half years ago. It had been such a mess then… such a heart-wrecking mess.

Harry shifted slightly, like he considered drawing closer. Draco liked the space between them. He didn’t want Harry’s warmth inches away; he didn’t want to see those green strange eyes up close. Frankly, he didn’t really want to talk to Harry.

Only that was a lie.

“What are you doing here?” Draco said after a beat of heavy silence. Harry shifted closer, carefully, like he was approaching an easily spooked cat.

“It’s a party for the military, right?” his voice sounded casual but Draco would be an idiot not to see the way Harry basically stalked forward, like a predator who’d zeroed in on its’ prey. Draco shifted slightly as he took in how Harry towered over him even from a slight distance. Christ he had to be around seven feet, and with all those muscles… Draco couldn’t help but take a step back. Harry would never hurt him. He knew that. But still.

“And military you’ve become,” Draco replied with bitterness lancing his voice. Old memories refusing to stay hidden as Harry came closer despite how Draco now shifted backwards with every breath.

Harry smirked, the gesture the very opposite of genuine. It looked like something a numbed soldier might do before ending lives. Draco tried not to read too much into it. Tried not to imagine Harry with his once gentle hands as someone capable of killing.

Draco looked towards Harry’s hands; they weren’t soft anymore. They weren’t hands that gripped books or helped old ladies across the street. These were hands roughened by war.

Draco hated Harry for the choices he’d made. Why would _his_ Harry ever have thought of going to war?! _Why_!?

“Please Draco,” Harry sighed, now close enough to almost touch, his frame almost blocking out the sunlight. “Not again, not after eighteen months.”

Draco closed his eyes, unwilling memories of hot breath and whimpers resurfacing. It wasn’t a memory he was proud of, but non-the less was it a memory he treasured.

“I asked you _not_ to leave if you remember?” Draco couldn’t help but bite out. Because he had asked, begged really, Harry to not do this. To not leave him and the rest behind to go fight in a war better left for others. He’d pleaded as he’d kissed soft lips and clung to strong hands-

But what had it mattered… The following morning had showed nothing but an empty bed and ruffled sheets. A book filled of folders and pages for writing letters with a note stuck to the front of it with the words ‘ _write me’_.

Draco had thrown the book in the trash, he’d set the ruffled sheets aflame and he’d proposed to Astoria half a year later.

The ring on his finger felt cold against his skin.

Harry’s face was unreadable. “I had to leave,” his voice almost faltered. “It wouldn’t have been fair of me not to when I could help-”

“Why is it your job to help!?” Draco couldn’t stop the cutting words from escaping. “You disappear to some camp for three months without anyone hearing a sound and then you make a quick stop before departing a year and a half!”

Draco’s hand shook as he tried to reign in the emotions escaping his grasp as quick as water.

“Draco,” Harry sighed, face still unreadable. “Not again.”

Draco tried to force his crumbling walls to stabilize, to at least hold for another hour or two, however long Harry planned to stick around. Because Harry had made his choice and it wasn’t like Draco had ever had any sway over Harry. Not even when he’d begged him to stay, tried to peruse him with desperate words and soft caresses.

It hadn’t worked. The only thing it had done had been making Draco throw up following morning and then force him to live with guilt so heavy he sometimes feared it would crush him. And what had it all been for? A few hours of happiness where he’d been convinced everything would sort itself out? When he’d thought his Harry would remain his?

But then again… Harry hadn’t been his. Not since before camp, perhaps longer still. Since that fateful night over three years ago when Harry had been kissing some girl and Draco’s heart had broken clean in two.

Draco wasn’t to Harry what Harry was to him. Would never be. And that hurt, sometimes unbearably so.

“Fine,” Draco forced out after a beat or two of pressing silence. His walls shook to their very core as Draco tried to hold it together by his fingertips. If this had been four years ago Draco wouldn’t have hesitated to demand Harry to provide him with answers, to comfort him and hold him. But… this was the _now_.

Harry just looked at him, his eyes still hard. Had he come closer? It was hard to say, but Draco’s neck was bent at a steeper angle and geez, he reached up to Harry’s shoulder, but just _just_. Something about Harry towering made Draco’s insides feel warm, and he couldn’t help but allow his gaze to sweep over defined shoulders and strong arms. He knew Harry liked how he looked as well, or it had at least seemed that way during that night when they’d stumbled together. But that didn’t matter.

Not at all.

“So you’re coming back?” Draco prided himself of how his voice sounded void of emotions, how no matter crumbling walls and floods he still managed to hold firm. To at least appear as someone strong, as someone who couldn’t possibly still be in love with the man who had showed him nothing but disregard for almost two years. The man he’d been convinced he would share his life, secrets and burdens with, now just another person to keep up a mask in front… How time changes things.

“I,” Harry’s face scanned his quickly, eyes moving rapidly. “I’m scheduled to depart again next week.”

Draco felt tempted to leave it at that, to leave this whole situation, Harry, the privacy of the maze, the slightly off party and just go home. Forget this day ever happened. Forget Harry Potter ever stumbled into his life with his green eyes and dimpled smile.

He wished he hadn’t stolen Harry’s tags. Hadn’t seen the chain and the plates spelling out name and numbers and thought to take it. Like that would have ever stopped Harry from departing when not even a night of plea and breathy moans had.

“Ah,” Draco nodded, his chest collapsing in on itself in a figurative sense. It didn’t feel figurative. “Good luck with that then.” What else was it to say? Stay. Yeah like Draco was willing to disregard his self pride to that extent _again_. He had allowed his foolish heart to control his actions one time; he wasn’t about to do it ever again.

Harry just nodded; still standing so bloody close, merely inches between them. Draco took a step backward.

“Be careful,” he whispered as he turned around, away from Harry. Because even now, even with Harry rather fighting wars than remain on the same continent as Draco he still wished Harry the best. He truly did.

The tears didn’t even have the decency to wait for a hedge to separate him and Harry before they started to fall.

Instead, just as Draco managed to turn around they began to flow, like a fucking waterfall. He didn’t sob, refused to. But he sure as hell wouldn’t turn around and face Harry with big fat drops of saltwater gleaming on his cheeks.

Sadly, that wasn’t something he got a say in.

“Draco,” and Harry’s voice wasn’t dark this time, wasn’t honed like a weapon and wheeled with precision. It was… it was crackling.

A large hand engulfed his right shoulder, a warm weight that stretched from the rounding of his shoulder to the beginning of his neck. He shivered and couldn’t help but press up against the touch, almost desperately.

Harry turned him around easily and a crying Draco was suddenly face to face with sharp cheekbones and sharp eyes.

But maybe that was okay because despite sharp eyes Harry didn’t look all that dangerous anymore. Just like his voice, Harry’s expression was different. And Draco didn’t want to get his hopes up just to have it all crumble but he was almost certain that in the jumble of emotions that was Harry’s face, he saw him. His Harry. The one who he’d shared secret smiles with and too long hugs. The one he’d believed he one day would get to keep. Build a life with despite his parents’ expectations and despite what the world would think.

Draco was suddenly pulled into a hug, a bone-crushing hug.

“I don’t want to go,” Harry whispered. And maybe it was eighteen months too late but despite that something inside of Draco unclenched. A sob broke through.

“You don’t have to,” Draco promised, clutching at broad shoulders as he pressed closer. “I promise you don’t have to.”

“Thank you,” Harry was shaking. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Thank you.”

“It’s okay,” Draco managed to get out despite it not really being okay, not at all. But that didn’t matter. Not now. Maybe it would again later, but not at this very moment when Draco was holding Harry close, surrounded by greenery and marble. “It’s okay,” Draco lied again while he promised to himself that he would make sure Harry stayed.

Harry wasn’t made for war and Draco wanted Harry happy, with him or someone else. So Draco would make damn sure Harry stayed here.

Here… at _home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, another chapter!
> 
> I got a summer job, yay for my wallet but perhaps not so good for my update-schedule. However it is I will keep trying to update regularly through out summer despite work, allergies and other summer horrors. Hope you’ll stay with me to the bitter end :) 
> 
> Comments and kudos are as always appreciated and helps keep me motivated. 
> 
> Anyway! Stay awesome! I’m out ;)


	6. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings are found in the tags. Might be some misspellings since English isn’t my mother language; feel free to comment if you find any ghastly ones. This fic is set in an alternative universe. Enjoy.

\- 21 years old -

Moody sighed deeply as he watched the strong figure enter the room. Harry Potter. Damn, the kid had turned out to be a mean motherfucker. It wasn’t usual that Moody during his forty-one years in the army admitted that he’d done wrong, but for once he had to admit defeat. Making Harry Potter join the army had been a mistake of shit show proportions.

Maybe it hadn’t been the army per see that had made the righteous kid break and mend again as something on the wrong side of mean, not since the kid had taken to boot camp easily enough. Making friends with that Wood kid before departing to the south. No, Moody was fairly certain his SA group had had something to do with how Potter sometimes used his ability to _compel_ without a hint of remorse.

They’d sure taught him to control his COM voice; only, they’d normalized it in the process. That hadn’t been the intention.

Moody had at first been reluctant to believe it all, that a righteous kid like Potter had gone dark. But that was only until he’d seen Potter yell at a fellow soldier to “shut the fuck up”. The soldier had barely breathed nor moved a muscle for ten minutes straight. Worst part had been how the surrounding had acted as if nothing was amiss. Carefully stepping around the frozen soldier with downturned eyes and trembling hands.

Like this was an every day occurrence, an everyday horror.

It had been… Enlightening.

Then the fucking stunt at the Greengrass’ manor… Jesus fucking _Christ_. Moody had had to pull a lot of fucking strings just to keep Bones _and_ Fudge from demanding a complete shut down of the COM program. All files burned, experiment annihilated, Harry Potter with a bullet right between his eyes, total and utter closure.

But he’d managed to salvage part of the program so at least they had _this_. As small as victories come, at least they had _this_.

Potter sat down on a chair opposed the man in the grim room. The walls were grey and devoid of anything but an 180-degree camera and a big mirror. Obviously a two-side mirror, Moody would know since he was sitting on the other side, observing. The man facing Potter and Potter himself wasn’t stupid enough not to know this fact as well. But that was okay; the man’s imagination would run wild speculating who might be watching and Potter… Well, he would presume Moody to be watching, maybe detective Tonks. He would under no circumstances imagine anyone else, especially not a blond kid with pale skin and grey eyes.

Draco Malfoy shuffled closer to the fake mirror, hand reaching out as if to touch Potter through the glass. The whirlwind of feelings inside the blonde was all too obvious. Moody sighed, he wouldn’t do this if he didn’t believe this to be truly necessary, if he didn’t believe showing Malfoy was _truly_ necessary.

The man opposed Potter was a vile creature, a murderer and sociopath. Apparently he hadn’t gotten enough love as a child and had then turned crooked when his wife of four years left him for another. Her blood and her new man’s was now colouring this man’s hands. Now and forever. And that was not even mentioning the couple’s four-year-old daughter, now doomed to live her life seated in a wheelchair after taking a knife to the spine.

The court needed a confession. The COM program could fix that. After all, since Potter had demanded to stay in England the rewriting of the COM program had been a necessity; especially after Potter playing puppet master at the Greengrass manor.

“Can they hear us?” Malfoy asked as the man opposed to Potter started to fidget slightly. Not a surprise consider Potter’s dark eyes and overwhelming presence. He made people feel like ants standing in front of a God, a God who wouldn’t mind crushing you if he so pleased. It wasn’t a nice feeling, to be completely frank, it made Moody scared shit-less.

“No they can’t,” Moody grunted. Malfoy seemed like an alright fellow, a bit vain but then again most upper-class snobs were. There was only one thing that truly stood out to Moody and that was Malfoy’s loyalty to Harry Potter, or, even more so, Potter’s loyalty to Malfoy.

And thus, Malfoy was sitting here, watching Harry Potter work. Moody prayed he wasn’t about to make another mistake.

“What are you looking at,” the man said to Potter on the other side of the fake mirror, his face an ugly mask of mocking. “Are you the one to interrogate me? A kid hitting the gym twelve times a week? The police sure are desperate.”

“ _Shut up_.” Potter said the COM in an almost bored voice.

The man immediately stilled. Potter sighed heavily as he tipped his head back, gazing towards the ceiling, clearly lost in thoughts. For a moment the room was silent, the COM:ed man’s eyes moving frantically to and fro in a panic.

That happened sometimes.

When Potter used the COM voice its victims could either appear willingly following its direction or fight it. Not that fighting it ever did any good; all it had done so far was to create panic in the victim’s mind. Trauma, some people had described it as, violation was a word others had used.

Moody felt _violation_ was the better word to describe the whole ordeal. Violation, or maybe the feeling of having been “used”. Picked up, moulded and dismissed. For all that they’d studied Harry Potter’s ability to COM people with his voice, no progress had been made to find the answer to how?

Potter’s biological father had apparently had the same ability. Keeping Potter’s mother Evans locked away for over ten years and all. What a freak.

Moody cast a glance towards Malfoy, the kid was looking at the scene with rapid eyes, his pale skin now turning a worrying shade of snow white.

“So,” Potter breathed out, clearly bored out of his mind. Then again, this was the third confession he’d forced out this day. “ _What are you here for_?”

“I,” the man shook slightly where he sat, his body straining in it’s desperate attempt to resist Potter’s honey-coated words. “I’m here on the charges of murdering Patricia and Neil Harris and harming Tilly.”

Potter looked up at that.

Moody knew that the kid had interrogated murderers before, sometimes even terrorists, but it had been a while since last… six month or so. Last interview, one with a Mr Vance had ended rather _badly_. That was… if you counted six hours in surgery as something deserving of the underwhelming word _badly_.

Moody had known the bloody mess had looked bad. But rather than seeing it as chaos of blood and teeth he’d seen it all as… expensive. As another thing Bones would hang over his head the following ten years of him working. So Potter had been laid off the nastier cases for a while.

Until now apparently. Moody was a bit unsure who’d come up with the grand idea to throw this at Potter, he suspected Tonks.

Malfoy was pressing closer to the glass, his fingers touching the transparent surface as his breath escaped faster. The kid was starting to get it.

“What…” he breathed out, his pale fingers trembling. On one of the fingers was a ring; Moody knew (because how could he not) that Malfoy was to marry next year. Just as he knew that the wedding had been delayed several times now. Moody didn’t think Malfoy would marry the Greengrass girl at all truth be told. It was a wonder why the kid even bothered to stay engaged when he spent every possible moment by Potter’s side. The first week after the Greengrass shit-show Malfoy had apparently not even cared enough to attend university.

Moody had to admit that senior Malfoy’s face when he’d come storming in to their office demanding to see his missing son had been a sight he would late forget. Potter had made the man shrink as he’d stepped between Malfoy junior and the kid’s father.

Potter had been like a lion protecting his mate.

“ _Did you do it_?” Potter’s voice sounded quiet in the interrogation room, a bit like before he’d told Mr Vance six month ago to bash his face against the table repeatedly. Perhaps this was a bad way to introduce Malfoy to the COM ability?

“Yes,” the man hissed out, his body moving worriedly as his mouth breathed out words seemingly without his consent. “I made Patty pay for being a fucking whore. Her and that retard and their deformed daughter.”

“Their daughter?”

Moody almost rose from the chair when Potter’s gaze narrowed, all traces of kindness and humanity gone, leaving behind a shell of vengeance and hate.

Why can’t Potter ever do as he was fucking asked? They needed a confession, a quick ‘I did it’ would be sufficient, nothing more, nothing less. And now this.

“ _What did you do to her_?”

The man smiled, a sick sort of smile that made Moody glad they would be able to lock this bastard away for good. If not Potter got his hands on him first that was.

“Stabbed her clean in half,” the man answered, his earlier resistance to the COM gone as he let out a bellow laugh. “Girl cried like a pig. Just like her mother.”

“ _Bite off your tongue, slowly_.”

Moody got up from his chair completely, stun gun ready in hand as he reached towards the button that would call for backup. He felt his pulse spike because this wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d make sure Tonks would take the whole fall for this, he hadn’t deemed Potter ready to interrogate these kinds of people.

And Mrs Bone had been mad last time.

“ _Mr Moody, Ms Tonks_ ,” Potter’s voice was clear as a day and Moody couldn’t help but curse underneath his breath, quickly changing direction towards the earmuffs. He’d made himself a rule to always wear them around his neck after Greengrass manor, but apparently had half a year with few to zero accidents made him carless. Moody hated carelessness.

The worst part was that he almost got to them. He’d laid his hand on them and started to move them towards his head when Potter spoke again.

“ _Be still_ ,” he said calmly. The COM instant and as horrible as ever.

Moody felt a strong urge to stand still. No, that was wrong, he felt that he _had_ to stay still, because Potter was right. The man currently screaming in the other room, being in the middle of biting off his own tongue was a monster. Was the sort of people Moody enjoyed locking up and throwing away the key for. So Potter was reasonable when he said that Moody should stay still.

Only, he wasn’t.

Moody tried to move his body despite how he really rather stay still. It didn’t work. A feeling of wrong and panic began to make it’s way into his mind as he processed that he was currently COM:ed for the third time in his life. He fought the voice in his mind trying to make him relax, the voice that wasn’t really his, the voice that was the COM talking.

There was a figure moving beside him. Pale and blonde. Malfoy!

The kid looked at him with big eyes, hands trembling worse than before. He moved towards the button which Moody first had tried to press, the one calling for back-up.

He hasn’t been COM:ed Moody realised with a flash of clarity in his muddled mind. Potter had COM:ed Moody himself _and_ Tonks who wasn’t even in the room. Malfoy was green.

The kid wasn’t half stupid as he quickly pressed the button, body turned away from the fake mirror. His face was even paler than usual as he seemed to force himself to ignore the muffled screams from the other side.

Moody was pretty fucking certain he’d made a fatal mistake in bringing Malfoy junior into the room with him. God only knew what Potter would do if Malfoy started to avoid him.

Moody soon heard movement in the corridor outside, not that it would save the poor bastard choking on the other side of the fake mirror, all Moody could hear was gurgling by this point. The door was thrown open and Moody would really have liked to be turned facing the action but instead his body reminded him to be still. To stand turned away with his arm holding the earmuffs loosely.

“Mr Moody?” the Malfoy kid approached him slowly his hands held out before him as if he was approaching a wild animal. “Are- are you alright?”

And Potter hadn’t told him to be quiet now had he? “Damn that Potter,” Moody muttered underneath his breath. “What’s happening?” It wasn’t a question, not really, it was more of a command.

“They’re restraining him,” Malfoy answered with a shaky voice. “I…” his voice faded away, like a tiny bird fluttering briefly before stilling forever. “I…” Malfoy tried again his face ashen. Moody hated to fuck up, and he had. He’d fucked up badly.

“Do you realise why I showed you this?” He’d been a fool to do so. But for some reason he’d ignored his gut feeling and gone with reasoning. Potter had been golden for several months, and now this.

“I,” Malfoy looks ready to faint as he avoid looking at Moody, “God…”

“Potter wasn’t off being a mere soldier. Potter was part of a special force.”

“I know,” Malfoy muttered underneath his breath, almost too quiet for Moody to hear. “I mean I’m not stupid. I… I’ve always suspected something…”

Malfoy looked away, his eyes gleaming of unshed tears.

“I’d never suspected this though,” he finished, his voice almost dying out in the still air.

Moody sighed as his mind worked. What would happen now? Last time Potter had gone dark they’d demanded a shut down. Moody had had to sell half his soul just to keep Potter alive. Was this it? Would Bones remain stubbornly against allowing Potter to keep breathing after showing this lack of stability, this lack of managing the pressure?

Moody wished he’d been able to return back to that day several years ago when he’d heard about a kid stopping the robbing of a bank with mere words. He wished he’d ignored it, written off the whole thing as fear playing tricks on the mind of the public. But he hadn’t had he. And now this.

“This is bad,” Moody said to the trembling Malfoy kid. He didn’t know what would happen, all he knew was that it would be bad, really, really bad. “They might want a shut down.”

Why was he telling the Malfoy kid this, he wondered? Maybe he felt like he owned it to him, from what he’d seen Malfoy junior loved Potter, loved him with a fiery intensity only matched by the kid’s stubbornness and pride.

“Fuck,” he breathed out. The men would come in here soon. They would come in and see him COM:ed to compliance and everything would be worse than it already was.

“What do you mean shut down?” Malfoy was standing in front of him. For once his eyes weren’t flickering about, they were staring into his with a firmness Moody usually only witnessed in generals’.

“He won’t be returning home no more,” Moody confessed because Malfoy ought to know, deserved to really. Moody had fucked up, so bad.

“What do you mean,” desperation crept into Malfoy’s usually smooth baritone, his hands shaking slightly. “He’s being contained? Locked up?”

Moody shook his head. Was that the sound of heavy boots in the corridor outside? Reinforcement was closing in.

“No Malfoy. He’s being _shut down_.”

What irony. Malfoy finding out about Potter’s powers in the same moment Potter’s doomed to be eliminated. Moody wondered if he would ever be able to sleep sound at night ever again. Whiskey had always helped before; question was if he this time around would be able to put down the bottle.

“You can’t.” Dainty hands grabbed Moody’s shirt collar and jerked him closer. Pity he couldn’t move, not even be moved really, his body tensed against the sudden force, fighting it. It all ended with Malfoy moving _his_ face closer, eyes burning. “I won’t allow it!”

“His faith isn’t in my hands Malfoy,” Moody felt a burning need to make very sure Draco understood this. “I’m not in charge here.”

“I can fix him,” Malfoy whispered, like a promise. Moody felt chilled to the depths of his bones. “Declare him unfit to continue this,” Malfoy’s eyes wandered the room briefly, his face displaying clear distaste for the whole setting. Moody wasn’t one to allow another man’s opinion to matter, but in this very moment Malfoy’s hard mouth and burning eyes made him feel disgusted with himself.

Potter had never been meant for this, what had he been doing to the boy? Three years of hell, he should have let him go right away after the Greengrass manor accident.

“He’s not made for this,” Malfoy continued. “He was perfect before you guys ruined him,” there was something thick in his voice even as he continued without mercy. “I need you to give me the chance to fix him.”

Moody stared into grey eyes. They’d reminded him of silver spoons and youth just moments ago, now he only saw steel.

“I don’t know how but I’ll do it,” Moody wasn’t a man who was swayed but Malfoy and Potter was something he’d been a fool to get in-between; he could see that now. Perhaps bringing Malfoy to the interrogation hadn’t been a colossal mistake. Maybe it had been his only possibility of redemption.

He greedily grabbed hold of it as he once again promised Malfoy.

“I’ll do it and we’ll leave him alone after that.”

“Make sure you do,” Malfoy’s eyes didn’t hold any forgiveness, they were still filled of unshed tears; Moody believed in Draco Malfoy’s words.

The door opened and men swarmed the room. Moody would probably recognise several of them if he only bothered letting go of Malfoy’s gaze. But he didn’t, not before once again promising with his entire being that _yes, I’ll give Potter to you… just fix him_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, what's that in the distance? It is a new chapter!? (Heard those are rare these days)
> 
> Heh, so anyhow the summer job I got took up a lot more of my time than I had anticipated :O Oh well, I’ll keep trying to update whenever I can x) Thank you all who’ve stuck with me!
> 
> Comments and kudos are as always appreciated and helps keep me motivated. 
> 
> Anyway! Stay awesome! I’m out ;)


	7. Doubts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings are found in the tags. Might be some misspellings since English isn’t my mother language; feel free to comment if you find any ghastly ones. This fic is set in an alternative universe. Enjoy.

\- 22 years old -

Ron was glad that Harry was back; that he had been back for eight months; that they once again were celebrating Christmas together.

Only, Harry was just so different.

Ron hadn’t really seen Harry for several years, not since he’d knocked at the door for over three years ago wondering if Harry wanted to hang out and instead had seen the hollow face of Remus.

“They’re gone,” he’d whispered before he’d crumbled. “I- I,” he’d whispered into the neck of Ron as he’d held him up. “I’d thought it was the right thing to do, for Harry. I couldn’t make him stay so why not support him-”

Remus had shivered and while Ron might have been tall and broad he was sure Remus had never felt this small before.

“Sirius left as well,” he’d whispered wetly into Ron’s neck.

And Sirius had.

Ron knew that Harry had been due for the army. He also knew that the reason why had been because of his _command_ _voice_. Someone had found out, a lot of people had found out to be precise, and so Harry had been shipped off to god knows where.

Ron had just not known exactly when Harry would leave, he hadn’t told him, he hadn’t known he’d said once when Ron had asked.

“They’ll call me in,” Harry had exhaled as they had ran through a park nearby Grimmauld place. “Any day now.”

Ron had just presumed that maybe Harry would have said good-bye? That maybe he wouldn’t simply be gone one day. The whole affair had hurt.

But not as much as it had for Remus. Remus who’d always been strong and smart as a whip, keeping track of everybody and making sure everyone was feeling well with the cooking dinner, bickering with Sirius, petting people softly on the head and shooting of small smiles at everyone.

Ron’s mum had once said Remus was keeping track on Sirius and James, that he was the one keeping them pieced together right. He’d just always appeared so strong, sturdy. And then he had been falling apart, and Ron had been so clueless.

But now Harry was back.

To be more precise Harry was back at Grimmauld place and Ron still couldn’t help but get shivers whenever Harry stared at him with his hard emerald eyes. It was nothing like how he’d used to be. It was like the very air around Harry had changed, turning ugly and sinister, like a wounded dog lashing out. Ron smiled and tried to treat Harry like he’d always done, but it was hard.

Draco had helped. Thank god yes Draco had helped.

Harry was like glued to him, always touching the blonde with his large hands. Ron had on several occasions been afraid Harry would accidently break Draco, the difference between them had always been startling but right now it was downright yin and yang. But Draco would just flick Harry on the nose or stab a sharp finger in his chest with a downturn of lips and Harry would always – _always_ – back off.

Hermione had once whispered _lion tamer_ underneath her breath and Ron couldn’t do much else but agree.

“Hello Ron.” Harry was standing before him, his eyes as sharp and hard as always.

Ron swallowed, forcing himself to _not_ tense. “Hello.” He looked around the room, the Christmas tree standing tall and presents in hundreds underneath; there were a lot of people attending; James, Dana, Lily, Hermione, Ginny, his mum and dad, the twins, Neville, Blaise, Pansy and her boyfriend du jour, Vincent, Greg and many more... And – of course – _Sirius_.

Ron had never been sure what Remus and Sirius had been to one another. All he knew was that Sirius had been a real ladies man in his youth, but after moving in with Remus he’d slowly stopped.

“Good riddance,” his mom had declared to that whenever it was brought up. “Someone needs to keep that boy in check.”

But Sirius _had_ moved out; and Remus had cried; and it had all been because of Harry Potter, Ron’s supposedly best friend.

Ron didn’t know all that much – he knew more now as he attended university, but it still wasn’t _much_ more – but he was pretty sure that if nothing else you weren’t suppose to be afraid of your best friend. If Harry was his best friend still, he had after all stopped answering Ron and Hermione’s letters after half a year in the army.

It had been somewhere after Hermione had written to him about Draco’s engagement.

“How are you?” Harry’s voice was deeper than Ron remembered it. He was larger as well. Harry filled out every corner of his body; muscles bunching up without making him look too brawny.

“Fine,” Ron said with a strained smile; his hands shook slightly; the air was heavy of something unspeakable, maybe killer-instinct. Oh how he wished things were different.

Harry seemed to sense his unease. “Ah,” was all he said as his eyes swept around the room. It was clear that Harry _was_ trying; he _was_ goddamn trying.

Ron felt like an arse.

“Or you know,” he forced himself to spill out. “I think I’m in love with Hermione.”

Okay that had not been on the list of things to say. What was wrong with him?

Ron felt himself go red.

“Oh really,” Harry looked at him with bewildered eyes, his usually guarded gaze surprised. Ron drank in the sight of emotion; Harry displayed them so seldom nowadays.

“Yeah,” he breathed out, hands fumbling with the glass of eggnog in his hand.

And Harry smiled. Fuck. Ron felt like crying.

“Yeah,” he breathed out again.

Harry continued to smile, the hardened look of a soldier and a killer melting away to be replaced by something different, something Ron had been sure to be lost in time: his friend, _Harry_.

“I’m glad. You two fit well together.”

“We do?” Ron took a step closer to the giant he’d considered his best friend. There was something there still, the same thing that had kept him plastered to Harry’s side for a whole childhood.

“You do.”

Ron wanted to find Hermione right now and simply kiss her and maybe Harry as well because this was bloody marvellous and-

“Hello Ron!”

Ron turned at the voice. He recognised it all too well. “Dana,” he exclaimed!

And there she was, her hair a halo of red and her cheeks splattered with summer freckles, his dad used to jokingly call her “The Lost Weasley”.

“Harry!” She cried out as well, flinging herself into his arms with a laugh. Ron thanked the gods for Dana; she hadn’t treated Harry any different, not even when they’d had their reunion after three years apart. Dana had just ignored the new scars and empty green eyes and hugged the giant that was Harry. She’d hugged him hard, then she’d seated herself in his lap, taking out her brand new phone and started showing off photos of all her friends in upper secondary school.

Harry had then looked down at her with the same expressions he still wore: fascination and utter adoration.

“I’ve missed you!” She exclaimed, her voice light and warm.

“How was Italy,” was all Harry answered as he left a soft kiss on her right cheek.

“Wonderful!” Dana gave Harry two pecks on both cheeks before detangling herself from him. She pressed her fingertips together on each hand and started to gesticulate around the room. “I’m speaking Italian,” she stated with a sparkle in her eyes.

Ron couldn’t help but let out a laugh. Even Harry’s stern expression seemed to loose some of it’s stoniness.

“Dana! You can’t just run away-”

Ron lifted his gaze as people began to flood the room. Lily was standing next to James, her eyes firmly stuck on Harry. Lily seemed close to terrified of Harry these days. Her hands trembling and her eyes flickering about whenever she was in the same room as Harry. Dana wouldn’t have been allowed inside a five-mile radius of him if it weren’t for James. Not that James and Harry got on all that well since after the army… but still.

“Harry,” James tried, his smile careful as he stepped forward. The difference in height and broadness was startling as James grabbed hold of Harry’s hand, shaking it firmly.

It was a sad sight to see, James greeting Harry by shaking his hand.

Harry’s face was once again the neutral mask that seemed to bring forth nervousness and caution in every man witnessing it. James was only human as his smile turned slightly strained, his hand withdrawing a tad bit too quickly for it all to be polite.

“James,” he responded. Ron thought back on the days when Harry had called James dad.

James just nodded as he withdrew to his wife, taking Lily’s hand and moving towards where Remus appeared down the stairs with a heartily “Remus!”

Ron stepped closer, watching Harry’s face carefully.

He had become better of late. Ever since Draco had forced Harry to move back into Grimmauld place and meet everyone properly again. Ron wasn’t sure what Harry had done the first year back on English soil – he suspected it had still had something to do with the army or at least home security, but he hadn’t asked. To be entirely fair Ron supposed he’d sleep better if he didn’t know what they’d made Harry do, what they’d done to transform Harry to this cold man with an air around him that made most people want to flee.

But it had been better these last months, because Harry had been trying.

“You want some eggnog?” Ron asked carefully, allowing a shaky hand to rest on Harry’s shoulder. Despite Harry being tall and broad, Ron almost had the same length if not the same width.

“No,” Harry’s voice lacked of emotion. Ron suspected it might be how Harry dealt with disappointment and grief. He’d always adored James, just as James had always adored Harry. This couldn’t be easy on any of them.

Still, Ron couldn’t entirely blame James either. Harry had changed. Harry had probably done horrible things in the army, even taken lives…

Ron shook his head quickly at that trail of thought. He’d promised himself not to go there.

The party moved on and soon everyone was gathered except two, Pansy and Sirius.

Draco walked into the room with his usual swagger. His easy smile putting everyone at ease as he charmed everyone’s pants off in his usual manner: greeting Remus with a peck, making small talk with everyone attending, bickering with the twins in a friendly manner, discussing the latest technology with Ron’s dad and sharing gossips with Dana and Blaise.

He was also coming by Harry and Ron’s corner in short intervals. Giving Harry’s hand a squeeze and talking to him in a low, smooth whisper. Harry always stepped closer than was probably socially accepted whenever Draco talked, allowing his hands to run trough fair hair and lingering on Draco’s slender neck.

The scene almost made Ron turn red as he stood by their side, carefully avoiding looking right at the possessive display.

Draco was still engaged to Astoria. Ron was convinced that they’d break up any day now. She wasn’t even coming over for Christmas. To be entirely honest Ron was fairly sure Draco wanted to end it, that he just hadn’t because he’d been so focused on Harry, guarding him with an obsession only matched by Harry’s own obsession towards him.

Draco was saying something to Harry, something that made Harry’s mouth morph into a small smile. Draco gave him a beam, fondness shining in his grey eyes. Harry pressed a quick kiss to Draco’s temple, hands pressing around the blonde’s waist and traveling up and down in a caressing manner.

Draco only blushed prettily, smile never wavering. Ron had to force back the eggnog that wanted to escape through his mouth in a loud cough. Christ, Draco better break off the engagement soon.

“Draco, darling!”

Ron rolled his eyes as he turned towards the door. Pansy.

Pansy looked dashing in her short red dress, hair curly and eyes gleaming of delight. By her side stood a tall man, his skin dark and smile wide. His eyes were stuck on Pansy as he stepped into the room and grabbed her arm. He appeared quite fit, Ron noticed as his large palm moved down from her arm to grab her hand. But then again, Pansy had always liked them fit and tall.

Well, she had had a small crush on Draco way back but Ron suspected most people would have had if he hadn’t been such a brat back then.

“Pansy,” Draco responded as he stepped out of Harry’s arms with a quick smile towards the dark-haired ex-soldier. Harry reluctantly let go, hands falling off Draco slowly.

“How have you been?”

Pansy dragged the tall man into the room with her, giggling and batting her eyelashes towards him. “Oh you know,” she said and tore her eyes from her current boyfriend. “Just great! Here,” she shuffled the man forward, “Meet Seamus!”

“Hello,” Draco said with a smile, his eyes dancing of joy and his body angled towards the flustered man named Seamus. “Nice to meet you Seamus.”

“Hi,” Seamus breathed out as he forced his eyes to move from Pansy’s red lips. “Nice to meet you.” He almost stumbled over the words.

Ron giggled slightly at the sight. Pansy and Draco had always made people feel rather lacking, both of them a bit too upper class and with an attitude to match.

Harry moved forward through the crowd, in all probability wanting to state his claim over Draco once more despite how Seamus was clearly head over heals for Pansy. But Harry was funny that way.

Harry’s hand slipped around Draco’s shoulders, his eyes firmly fixed on the blonde. Draco visibly leaned into the touch his lips opening slightly as he turned around. Ron diverted his eyes from the two, instead looking at Pansy.

She was blushing slightly as well, even as her eyes were a bit hard while staring at Harry, like maybe she thought he’d hurt Draco in the end. Ron sure as hell hoped he wouldn’t. But Harry was stubborn, and if he ever got an idea in his head he sometimes refused to listen, refused to see reason. Ron’s hope was that he’d learned from past mistakes. So what if Draco had yet to learn about his _command voice_ , Ron was pretty darn sure Draco wouldn’t care.

If only Harry could see that as well.

“Seamus, pet,” Pansy’s voice made Ron abandon his musings, she sounded concerned.

He looked up towards Seamus. Oh. The man looked terrified. Eyes wide open and mouth slightly ajar, his hands trembled visibly.

“Seamus,” Pansy tried again, “What’s wrong?”

Seamus shook his head, hand tightening around Pansy’s hand as he started to back away. “Let’s go,” he muttered, eyes firmly fixed on Harry.

Ron felt something grow in his throat as he moved forward. This wasn’t good. His heart began fluttering in his chest as he tried to think through the thousands of different possibilities to why Seamus would react this way. Sure Harry was scary with his cold eyes and deadly grace but that didn’t call for this kind of reaction. The only reason Ron could find was Harry’s _command_ _voice_.

Ron’s eyes ranked over Seamus again, noticing his rough hands, broad shoulders, short hair and straight back. _Military_ , Ron found himself thinking as he arrived at Harry’s side, putting a calming hand on his shoulder.

“Pet,” Pansy tried as she fought his hold.

Seamus just kept backing, his steps turning longer.

Harry looked up from Draco, his eyes locking with Seamus. Ron thanked the gods above when Harry simply narrowed his eyes and pressed Draco closer to him.

“Let go,” Pansy said, something like annoyance appearing in her voice. “It hurts.” She tried to force Seamus’ hand to open without much success. Seamus seemed to be far away from here as he backed another step, clearly longing to turn and run but supressing the instinct.

“Hey,” Draco said as he tried to detangle himself from Harry. Harry only growled lowly without looking away from Seamus. Draco poked a hard finger in Harry’s chest and let out an actual hiss.

Harry let go of him instantly.

Draco took off without hesitation, approaching Pansy quickly. “Let go of her,” he demanded as he grabbed hold of Seamus’ arm trying to force it to release Pansy. Seamus didn’t even seem to notice him.

“Hey!” Harry took a step forward. Ron could almost feel the room take a collective breath. “ _Let her go_.”

Pansy was free. Seamus was staring and Ron, Ron witnessed how Harry Potter’s eyes turned from narrowed to slightly widened as he realised what he’d done in front of _everybody_.

“He’s evil,” Seamus said aloud. “He- he-”

“ _Shut up_!”

Seamus’ lips clapped together without hesitation.

Fuck.

Ron looked around the room. James looked shocked as he stood shielding Lily who in turn had tears running down her cheeks, her body trembling worse than anything Ron had ever seen before. His family just looked slightly unsure, like they wondered if this was all a big joke or what was going on. Remus looked worried. Dana was just staring at the scene her eyes big and worried, a bit like the rest.

Ron knew that right now Harry was panicking. He also knew that nothing had ever turned to the better when Harry was panicking.

“Come,” Ron said because someone needed to take goddamn control over the situation and it might as well be him. He took a firm hold of Harry and Seamus as he dragged both of them behind him. It wasn’t easy, both of them being soldiers and all, but Ron found strength deep inside of him as he managed to escape from the main room.

He breathed out heavily as Seamus went further into the side-room, making sure the space between Harry and him was as wide as possible.

Ron turned to close the door, his mind going miles per hour. Before he managed to close it properly a blonde head forced his way through. Draco.

“Get out,” Ron said even as Draco strolled further into the room.

“No,” was his response. Then he went straight to Harry, his arms spread out as he pressed closer. “Hush,” he whispered as Harry hesitantly allowed his arms to wrap around him. “It’ll be alright.”

Ron marvelled at the scene. Perhaps Draco hadn’t seen what to him had been so obvious? Maybe-

“Release him Harry,” Draco murmured into his neck. “Release him of the COM.”

Ron had no fucking idea what a COM was but Harry sure as hell had.

He took a step away from Draco. “How,” he began eyes turned cold, calculating. “Moody,” was all he said with something alike realisation in his voice.

“Not now,” was Draco’s response as he took another step closer to Harry. “We’ll talk later.”

Harry kept his distance even though his hands obviously longed to wrap around Draco with the way they opened and closed. Ron just prayed to whatever higher force there was that things weren’t about to turn to shit. They hadn’t even turned right yet, couldn’t just faith give them a goddamn break!

Harry looked over at Seamus in the far end corner of the room. “ _Be you_ ,” was all he said.

Seamus didn’t say anything as the command washed over him; he just kept still, pressed against the wall.

Ron would need to talk to him.

Ron approached Seamus carefully. He didn’t know the man after all; all he knew was that Seamus seemed to be very aware of Harry’s voice, and not in a good way. Ron didn’t really want to know what Harry had done to bring out this kind of reaction, didn’t want the image of his best friend sullied because of three horrible years in the army.

They’d almost turned Harry into a monster. How dared they.

Not for the first time did Ron feel a surge of anger rushing through him. But it wasn’t Seamus’ fault. He hoped for Seamus’ sake that it wasn’t Seamus’ fault. Otherwise Ron would gladly be the one making sure the tall soldier crawled out of the room.

“Hey,” Ron said, forcing his mind to settle, he didn’t know anything and he couldn’t afford any rushed conclusions.

This was what he did, cleaning up after Harry. This was what he was supposed to be good at.

“Are you alright?”

Seamus’ eyes didn’t stray from Harry. Ron wondered briefly if Draco had managed to convince Harry to put his hands on him again? The news about Draco being involved with this Moody had seemed to put Harry on edge. But Harry was weak against slender, blonde and snarky. Like a kitten. If Ron weren’t sure to one hundred percent that Draco only wanted what was best for Harry he would be fucking terrified.

“Hey,” Ron snapped his fingers in front of Seamus’ face. “Are you hearing me?”

Seamus slowly tore his eyes away from Harry. He refocused on Ron, his being fidgeting, like a deer ready for flight at the smallest hint of danger. “Yes,” he answered, brown eyes taking him in for a second before flickering over towards Harry and Draco again.

“You’re safe,” Ron tried clumsily; it had been so damn long since he’d done this.

“I’m not,” Seamus sneered quietly, obviously not wanting to draw any attention to him.

“Hey,” Ron had to call for Seamus’ attention yet again… to no avail. Ron couldn’t help but cast a quick glance backward just to see Draco between Harry’s arms, talking quietly to him, hands slowly stroking over Harry’s sharp cheekbones.

_Geez Harry, have some backbone_ , Ron couldn’t help but think with a sigh. Harry was a kitten, truly.

Then he looked at Seamus whose limbs still trembled slightly. “He’s Malfoy isn’t he?”

Ron arched an eyebrow as he looked up at Seamus. “Pansy told you about-”

“No,” he got out in a hoarse whisper. “Pansy told me about her friend _Draco_. She didn’t say his last name. I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to show if she had.”

“What-” Ron wasn’t sure what was going on. What had Draco’s last name to do with anything?

“Are you a Puppet?”

Ron just stared at Seamus like he’d grown a second head. This man seemed mental.

“Stupid of me to ask,” he sounded bitter. “You wouldn’t know if you were.”

“What are you talking about?” Ron tried to puzzle it all together in his head but there was just no way-

“Did you know what we called Malfoy in camp? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. If Potter would have ever heard us talk about him he’d COM:ed us to stand still for days... People got pneumonia, hyperthermia, some fainted, some managed without any side-effects beside muscle ache and nightmares-”

“Harry wouldn’t-”

“You obviously don’t know shit about your ‘ _friend.’_ Don’t insult me.” Seamus breathed heavily, his eyes traveling over Harry and Draco once more. Ron was too stunned to do much else than stare at Seamus’ face. He didn’t see any lies there, neither did he see deception. Seamus was telling the truth.

_At least he hasn’t said anything about Harry killing_ , Ron’s thoughts were selfish, he knew, but he didn’t want to even entertain the thought… Knowing would make things hard and Ron didn’t want to drown in doubt and paranoia, he just wanted to stay by Harry. Just wanted his best bloody friend back.

“I know more about him than you’ll ever know,” Ron whispered back harshly. He needed Seamus to understand that whomever he’d seen across sea and land hadn’t been the right Harry; that it had been a version brought out by hurt and desperation. A Harry placed in the middle of fire and blood miles from where he belonged, miles from the _people_ he belonged with.

“Puppet,” Seamus said again. “You’re probably a Puppet, always have been.”

Ron felt something alike annoyance in his chest. “What is a Puppet?” He couldn’t help but ask. It almost sounded like an accusation, like Seamus was the one at fault here. Maybe he was? It was sometimes all so muddled.

Seamus looked at him with glimmering eyes, his smile a bit mad while remaining terrified. He looked towards where Draco and Harry without doubt stood pressed closely together. “A Puppet,” he spat out the name like it was something that tasted bitter, foul, “is one of Potter’s spies. They report back to him, does his bidding.”

Ron shook his head. “Harry wouldn’t do that.”

Seamus didn’t seem to have heard Ron talk. “They can be anyone, even your best friend.” The soldier’s gaze flickered, his expression turning sad for a brief moment before the hard mask fell down once again, hiding everything but restrained fear and cautiousness.

“Why would he want to know things,” Ron asked almost desperately, this didn’t make any sense, or did it? He’d always liked Harry, he hadn’t freaked out when he’d discovered Harry’s powers so many years ago. Was that odd? Had he been calm because of a reason? Even now he wasn’t so much scared of Harry’s _voice_ as his change of personality. Of how he’d become silent and suspicious, putting up walls between them when it back in the day had been open fields and laughter.

But he wasn’t afraid of Harry. Why should he be?

As Ron looked at Seamus as he felt his stomach drop. Seamus was terrified of Harry; there was a reason why.

_Puppet_.

“Why would he want to know things,” Ron asked again, this time with slight desperation.

“Ron?”

He jerked around at the sound, finding himself facing Draco who’d turned around in Harry’s embrace, his grey eyes wide and questioning.

“Nothing,” Ron forced out as he turned back towards Seamus. His heart was beating several miles per minute as he tried to arrange his whirling thoughts. “Everything is fine,” he continued as he forced back the panic that was creeping forward.

Seamus was looking at him when Ron glanced upward, his eyes shining with sympathy, pity. Ron felt his stomach clench as he took a deep breath.

Everything is fine he tried to convince himself. Everything is fine and dandy, and it’s Christmas for Christ sake.

But everything wasn’t fine. Not really…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, another chapter! That happened surprisingly quickly :) 
> 
> I just ended my summer job so all of a sudden I have all this free time I don’t know what to do with :0 So I’m pretty much just watching Netflix and writing (not a bad way to spend a day).
> 
> Anyhow I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Until next time stay awesome! :D


	8. Burns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings are found in the tags. Might be some misspellings since English isn’t my mother language; feel free to comment if you find any ghastly ones. This fic is set in an alternative universe. Enjoy.

\- 23 years old -

“What do you mean you can’t?” Draco asked with a sharp voice. He pressed the phone closer to his ear as if he could hear past the stumbling lies and figure out what was really going on. Not that Ron would ever say.

“I just _can’t_ tomorrow,” Ron got out on the other side, voice passive but determined.

Draco sighed as he realised tomorrow’s gathering would be without Ron yet again.

“Hermione can’t either,” Ron added after another second.

Draco felt himself bristle, “Why the fuck not?!” It was unusual for him to swear but for once he’d had it with Ron and his pathetic lies. “What could it possible be this time that makes it impossible, not only for you but also for Hermione of all people, to attend? Huh! Did someone die?!”

“Draco calm down,” Ron tried to sound calming but Draco had just about had it with this fucking redhead.

“You know what, if Harry didn’t see you as a brother I would gladly tell you to fuck off instead of being cancelled on for the tenth time!”

“Draco,” Ron sighed like it was Draco who was being the difficult one, like it was _he_ who didn’t understand when in fact Draco understood it all perfectly well: Ron was a bastard who didn’t dare end his friendship with Harry face to face and instead avoided him like the plague. It was just such a fucking awful thing to do!

“No Ron,” Draco sneered. “Bye.”

“Can we just talk about this-”

Draco ended the call with a swift press of a button, putting down the phone and burying his face in his hands. “Fuck,” he muttered as he wondered how the fuck he could explain this to Harry? He hated telling Harry about how Ron had been a dickhead once again and make excuses such as “maybe there’s a lot right now with uni?” or “He’ll probably come around whenever that paper he’s writing is done.”

Draco hated defending Ron, hated it! Especially since Ron _wouldn’t_ come around whenever he had “time”. Ron wouldn’t come around period because apparently he’d tried on “asshole” and decided he liked it.

“Hey?”

Draco turned in his seat and saw Harry approach, his steps quiet but frame looming.

“Hey,” he breathed out, feeling how the last remains of anger disappeared, leaving behind an empty shell that was simply tired of it all. So goddamn tired... “What do you say about having dinner here at my place instead of at the Three Broomsticks?”

Harry tilted his head to the side, looking to the world like a lazy predator. “But Ron and Hermione-”

“Are apparently busy. You know,” Draco raised his eyebrow in a poor imitation of cheeky, “they just got together last month; of course they want to be alone.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “Ah.”

If Draco didn’t know Harry he would have thought Harry simply accepted the knowledge of yet another Friday dinner cancelled without a care. But, now he _did_ know Harry and thus did he see disappointment in the faint line between Harry’s eyebrows, he saw hurt in the clench of Harry’s hands. Draco felt a sudden and fiery hate towards Ron and Hermione.

“But it could be nice just the two of us?” Draco asked as he gave Harry a small smile.

Harry’s eyes zeroed in on him in the usual way, the hunger all to obvious. “Of course,” he said with a sharp smile.

Draco knew that Harry’s head was still somewhere else. He would bet his right hand that Harry was going through different scenarios to why Ron and apparently Hermione had started to avoid him. Draco wondered if Harry blamed himself? If he saw this separation as Ron finally having enough of Harry’s COM abilities?

Stupid question. Of course he blamed himself.

Draco wanted desperately to promise Harry at least _he_ wouldn’t leave, not for anything. But how do you say that without bringing up the fact that Ron and Hermione had, after all, left him? Draco was so tired of excuses, but he would continue to tell them until Harry had had enough, until Harry one day without doubt would stop talking about Weasley and Granger.

Harry stepped forward and captured Draco’s waist easily with his hand. Draco allowed himself to be pulled in, to move with the controlled force that was Harry until he was gently pressed against a firm chest. Harry bent down and kissed Draco’s mouth gently.

Draco couldn’t help but shudder at the sensation of hot lips and the slight taste of coffee. Harry must just have had a cuppa joe.

Harry dived back down, his mouth slightly parted as his lips gently coated Draco’s open. Draco felt like drowning as he clutched at the Henley Harry was wearing. It was always the same, every time they kissed. Draco didn’t think anyone had kissed him like Harry did. Harry always kissed him with care, like they had all the time in the world. Draco hoped they had, he wouldn’t be able to bear it if they hadn’t.

Harry’s hand engulfed his neck, lingering at the chain holding Harry’s dog tags. The first time Harry had seen them he’d gone quiet, just touching them carefully with large eyes. Draco had ran his hands through Harry’s hair for hours as the man in question had kissed Draco’s throat and down his chest. Harry liked doing that, Draco had noticed. Liked touching his neck, making sure the chain-necklace was still there. If Draco were to ever allow it he suspected that Harry would love to tattoo his own name onto Draco’s pale skin.

Draco’s breath hitched as Harry’s tongue swept into his mouth, brushing gently over his teeths and tickling the ceiling of his mouth. Draco took a firmer hold of Harry’s shoulder, feeling himself sway forward in search for more heat, more of Harry.

Harry’s hand that wasn’t busy squeezing his neck and toying with the chain still rested at his waist. Draco shuddered as he felt it move downward, taking hold of his arse and squeezing it purposely. He couldn’t help but let out a small whimper at the feeling.

Of course, when it was as most wonderful, just as Draco’s cock had started to fatten up, Harry took hold of Draco’s hand. For a moment there was just skin against skin, Draco’s slim hand in Harry’s broad one. Then Harry froze.

For a moment Draco was confused, that was, until he remembered.

“Fuck,” Draco whispered as he immediately jerked his hand away from underneath Harry’s. “I’ll take it away, sorry.” He fumbled with the ring sitting proudly on his finger as he cursed himself quietly. Just because he’d visited Astoria earlier today didn’t mean he could leave _it_ on. Goddamn it.

But Harry was already backing away.

“No, Harry,” Draco whimpered as he pressed forward, desperately trying to juggle tearing off his ring without tearing off his finger and keeping Harry close. It didn’t yield any success.

Harry let go of him completely as he took one step back, then another, before sitting down on the couch in the middle of Draco’s student flat. His face was just blank, not even a ripple of emotion. That was how Draco knew it was bad.

“Harry?” Draco finally managed to get the ring off his finger and out of sight. “Hey, I had to visit her today. I’m sorry-”

Draco tried to reach forward, his hands a bit shaky in their quest to grip Harry’s giant paw. He just needed to feel Harry’s warm skin underneath his fingertips once more. He hated whenever Harry pushed him away like this, it reminded him too much of that night and the morning after.

But Harry just tensed and withdrew his hand quickly when Draco tried to catch it. His face still blank, eyes guarded. There was a heavy lump in Draco’s throat and something making gaze turn slightly blurry. Fuck.

“You know it doesn’t mean anything,” Draco tried to reason, tried to gently remind Harry that his engagement didn’t mean a damn thing. Harry had needed a distraction from the Weasley-situation, but this was a bad fucking distraction.

“You’re still engaged,” Harry’s voice sounded weary, almost resigned. “Sorry, it just… sometimes it slips my mind.”

“It doesn’t mean a thing,” Draco reminded Harry yet again. “We’re going to break it off as soon as Astoria finds someone new.”

“You said that two years ago.” Harry’s eyes didn’t blame him, they weren’t filled with hurt. They were just simply blank, emotionless. Just like his voice.

“Hey,” Draco walked forward and kneeled in front of Harry, making his voice soften and eyes display some of the regret and concern that whirled inside of him. “You know how her family is.”

Harry just turned his gaze away, allowing those piercing green eyes to look to the right of Draco, past him.

Draco bit back the tears that wanted to overflow. He deserved this, he knew this thing with Astoria had to be properly ended, but… they’d been engaged for years; and Malfoys and Greengrass didn’t simply end engagements. Draco shivered as he thought about what his father would say.

It would be easier if Astoria could just find another man so that she could maybe just switch over to him; someone of academic brilliance, someone from an old, respected family, someone with bright prospects?

Draco would do it – of course he would if it would end their engagement quicker – find a pretty girl from a good family with a doctors degree or the like. But he had Harry and Harry was neither of the above. Harry was simply a secret without education or respected family. Harry wasn’t a lady… Harry was a man.

Was it selfish?

Draco knew his dad would never approve of Harry and so what if he allowed his and Astoria’s engagement to maybe last a little while longer. He just needed to brace himself for being cast out. Just wanted a few more months being the golden son.

Not that he’d ever tell Harry. Because he knew Harry would do something stupid if he knew. Like leave Draco.

And Draco didn’t want that. More than anything he didn’t want that. He wanted Harry, quite desperately.

Harry still refused to look Draco in the eye. “Hey,” Draco said again. “She knows about us, she knows her and I are over.”

“So what,” Harry spat out and his voice didn’t sound all that empty anymore. Somehow, Draco was suddenly sure he would have preferred it to continue being a void. “Just because you don’t fuck anymore-”

Draco flinched. Harry rarely said anything crude and never to Draco. It felt a bit like getting splashed with a bucket of cold water.

Harry took a deep breath and stopped talking. Draco didn’t look up, instead he stared at the floor, trying to force back tears that desperately wanted to escape. He noticed how his hands shook slightly. He pressed them together, keeping his concentration directed towards his trembling limbs. The silence in the room was heavy.

“Jesus,” Harry mumbled as he got up from the couch and walked to the left.

Draco kept still, just trying to breathe. “That’s unfair,” he forced out shakily.

“No,” Harry didn’t sound mad anymore, not in the aggressive way, but he did still sound sharp, cutting. “What you’re doing is unfair. Draco, I love you.”

He closed his eyes, as the air came into his lungs and left. Harry’s words seemed to hover in the room. It wasn’t fair, Draco kept thinking. That Harry was using these words as a mean to hurt him. These three words Draco usually treasured, words that were said so seldom he sometimes went months without hearing them. _I love you_.

“I love you too Harry,” Draco responded, his voice wet. “And I’m going to break it off properly with her… but I owe her this Harry. All this time she spent on me, thinking we were going to become something lasting. I’ve had dinner with her grandparents; I’ve played with her cousins-”

“Okay,” Harry interrupted Draco’s speech, his voice hard as steel. It didn’t sound like acceptance as much as hurt. “Then we shouldn’t do this.”

There was a feeling inside of Draco... He’d never jumped parachute, but for some reason he suspected this might be what it felt like. Only, instead of the adrenaline infused thrill this was the equivalent of unnamed terror as one discovered ones parachute was malfunctioning.

“Shouldn’t do what?” He asked, afraid of the answer.

“Be together… at all.”

“What?” Draco looked up, ignoring the way tears were flooding over. _He was losing him_ , his mind kept saying on repeat. He was losing Harry… again. “No,” Draco got up from the floor, his hands grabby and desperate.

“Draco,” Harry sounded small and hurt and at the same time so very determined. “Until you break the engagement we can’t-”

“You and I are not even properly together, remember. We’re already holding back until I break off the engagement,” Draco vomited words, any words that might help. “We’re only kissing and holding each other, do you want to take that away?”

“It’s not enough Draco,” Harry’s voice sounded wet as well. “It’s eating away at my insides. I want you to me mine and I want to be yours. I don’t want you spending time with your ‘fiancée’ and her family.”

“It’s only for a while! I _owe_ her Harry!” Draco tried to grab hold of Harry, to press closer. But Harry held firm, he kept Draco at bay with a strong hand and a haunted expression.

“What about me,” Harry asked. Harry never asked for anything. “Don’t you owe me anything?”

“I’m betting my life on you,” Draco shouted. “I…” he took a breath, the sudden silence in the room as refreshing as a mouthful of air after emerging from water. “I bet my life on you Harry.”

Harry’s hand didn’t offer resistance when Draco pressed forward. He allowed his hands to grab Harry, to pull him back towards the couch and there push him down firmly. Harry just looked at him, his expression open and vulnerable, Draco had never seen this very expression on his face before. It made something hurt inside of him; he was after all supposed to take care of Harry, supposed to fix him.

His hands grabbed hold of Harry’s face, tracing his sharp cheekbones and lovely lips.

“I’ll fix it as soon as possible,” Draco promised. “I… I guess I didn’t realise this was hurting you this much.”

Harry turned away his face, like the fact was an embarrassment, like him showing anything but a strong outer was weakness.

Draco wondered if he’d neglected him. His Harry… his wonderful, wonderful, Harry.

“A year,” Draco promised, “Can you hold out one more year? If Astoria hasn’t found anyone then at least she will have finished her studies.”

For a moment Draco feared Harry wouldn’t answer. That he would only sit there and stare up at the ceiling, ignoring Draco and his clumsy attempts to fix this.

“What choice do I have…”

Draco didn’t want to think about Harry’s choices. In too many of them Harry ended up with someone else, someone not Draco who wasn’t bound by old traditions and expectations; someone who didn’t complain when Harry forgot to pick up his clothes from the floor; someone ordinary and homely; someone not engaged.

“Please,” Draco asked as he sat down next to Harry, holding onto his broad body with all his might. “Please pet.”

Harry shuddered before he slowly melted. Allowing himself to sink into Draco’s clumsy embraced. _Thank god_.

“Yes,” he exhaled. “One more year.”

\- 24 years old -

Everything was fine. It was even amazing and wonderful all things considered.

Remus smiled and marvelled at the ease in which he did it. For once the upturn of lips felt neither forced nor exaggerated, he just couldn’t _not_ be genuinely happy for Harry and Draco.

Draco was sitting in Harry’s lap, talking to Blaise while Harry’s large hands were rubbing at the blonde’s thighs and side. Travelling casually up and down, an automatic movement more than any. Harry nodded every now and again to whatever Blaise or Draco were saying, sometimes adding a short word but mostly just listening.

Harry’s always been like that, Remus thought with a smile as he checked the pasta, making sure the spaghetti hadn’t turned to mush since last time he looked.

“How’s it going?” Ron came up to him, a glass of something in his hand. Remus smiled hesitantly. He hasn’t seen Ron for a while, and was honestly surprised the redhead decided to show up this Sunday instead of declining as usual. Sure, Ron had moved south with Hermione since one year back and was therefor not as often in London, but Remus knew all too well that _that_ wasn’t the reason for declining dinner even if it was the excuse.

“Hello,” he settled on at last. Offering the breadknife to Ron. “Make yourself useful.” Remus wasn’t one to allow things like avoidance to slide – he liked to confront people – hated secret agendas really, but for Harry he would play nice. Harry might have ignored Ron in exception to the polite “Hello,” but Remus saw how Harry’s gaze travelled to Ron ever so often. As if to check that he was really there. Like a moth trying and failing to resist the light.

So Remus allowed Ron to grab hold of the Cape Seed loaf while he grabbed the butter and cheese, putting them on the tray before once again returning to the pasta.

For a while it was silence between the two, the only sound being the radio in the background and the talking in the living room. There were still some people they were waiting for: Dana, Crabbe and Neville. And, Remus thought as he swallowed down a lump of unease, Sirius. But otherwise the ones who would come had.

James and Lily had declined. Lily had, after all, given birth just last week so of course they wouldn’t come. Remus wondered if that would become an issue, Harry and the new baby? It would, he suspected. Lily kept well away from Harry these days; they probably hadn’t seen each other for half a year. James wasn’t any better, glued to his pregnant wife’s side. But in all honestly, things had changed way before Lily gotten pregnant again. James hadn’t known how to handle Harry since he’d returned from the warfront.

Thank god Dana was different.

“How has he been?”

Remus turned to Ron, his hands pausing with what they were doing. “Harry?” He asked, needing clarity. Ron hadn’t been very big on Harry this last year so he was honestly a bit surprised.

Ron shuffled to and fro for a bit, his hands shaking slightly as he cut the loaf carefully, keeping his eyes on the task at hand, refusing to meet Remus’ eyes. “Yes,” he settled on after another beat. “I’m just curious.”

Ron had always taken care of Harry, ever since they’d been children. That he hadn’t done so for a while was clear in the way his eyes refused to meet Remus’, like he was ashamed.

_He should be_ , Remus couldn’t help but think. Harry might not say anything but it had been more than obvious to Remus that Ron’s withdrawal had taken its toll.

“Why do you care?” Remus wondered if he maybe should tone down the animosity but realised after another beat that he didn’t care. Ron would be gone from their lives sooner rather than later if this all continued anyhow, it would be stupid not to give him some heat for it before he disappeared altogether.

Ron flinched a little. It was hard to see and Remus probably wouldn’t if he hadn’t paid attention, but the flinch was there all right.

“We’re only an hour away from Brighton,” Remus continued, studying Ron from the corner of his eye. “You and Hermione are always invited.”

“Yeah,” Ron refused to look at him still. “It’s just been so much with the new house and all.” There wasn’t even any effort put into the lie.

“He’s good,” Remus settled on, humouring Ron for old times sake. “Draco has cancelled his engagement to Astoria,” Remus smiled at the end of the sentence. Harry had been absolutely beaming of late. And it was wonderful, so goddamn wonderful. “He’s really happy.”

“Oh,” Ron sounded sad, utterly sad, as he paused, the knife hovering uselessly in the air a second or two. He coughed, something thick making itself known in his throat. “That’s good,” his voice wobbled slightly.

“We celebrated it all three weeks ago. Astoria was here as well, she even gave her blessings.”

“Oh,” Ron’s voice was small. “I wasn’t aware-”

“We didn’t think you would come, either of you.” Remus felt a certain satisfaction telling Ron this. Telling him while knowing he didn’t have a clue about any of it. _This is what happens_ , he thought with bitterness lancing the words, _this is what happens when you stop caring._

“Yeah,” Ron continued cutting the bread. “I understand.” Sadly enough it really sounded like Ron did.

“You could always start to come here more,” Remus dropped casually. “I don’t know what’s kept you away-”

“Our new house-”

“Please,” Remus turned to Ron, his whole body facing the redhead, Harry’s best friend. “I’ve never been a fan of bullshit so just drop it.”

Ron didn’t face him in turn, just kept looking down at the loaf. For a while it looked like Ron would simply ignore Remus’ request with a pale face and void eyes. Remus snorted as he moved away, he didn’t want to stand close to Ron, not now when it seemed like nothing would reached the redhead. Remus suspected that he could stand there all night and throw things at Ron, things about friendship, loyalty and honour and the redhead still wouldn’t care.

It was sad… all of it. Remus had always envisioned Ron growing up different.

“I’m scared.”

The voice was so quiet that Remus almost suspected he might have imagined it. But as he looked up towards Ron he was turned towards him, his eyes open and vulnerable.

“What do you mean?” Remus held his breath as he took a small step towards Ron, keeping his body language soft.

“He’s been different since he came home hasn’t he?” Ron’s words came out so, so quiet. Like he was scared that someone would overhear. Remus realised after another beat that he indeed _was_ scared, it was glaringly obvious when you looked for the signs: Ron’s hands shook slightly and his eyes travelled around the spacious room, lingering at the couch where the rest of the gang lounged about.

Remus stepped closer. He wanted to hear what Ron had too say… no, he _needed_ to know what Ron had to say. Maybe he could fix this whole mess; he’d always been good with puzzling shards together, mending cracks.

“Of course he has,” Remus agreed. “Who wouldn’t, he was fighting a war.”

Ron looked at Remus with wide eyes. “Yeah,” he breathed before hesitating. It was not hard to see that Ron was scared of telling Remus. Perhaps he suspected he would tell Harry… and then what?

“I might not agree with what you have to say,” Remus offered. “But I won’t tell Harry if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

Ron nodded, his eyes looking pained. Still, his posture was as tense as before, like Remus words hadn’t really meant anything.

“I know you wouldn’t,” Ron nodded. “Not if you could choose.”

Remus frowned, his eyebrows coming together as his thoughts went into overdrive.

“What are you implying?” He couldn’t help but bite out the sentence, his tone a bit too harsh.

“He’s changed after the war,” Ron said, taking a step closer, whispering more urgently. “You said that yourself.”

“And what,” Remus felt something shimmer underneath his forced calm exterior. “You think he’s commanding us to do things?” Remus shook his head, face morphing into mask of repulse. “Then you don’t know Harry.”

“Look,” Ron stepped even closer, almost standing nose to nose with Remus, his eyes staring into Remus’ like he wanted to will the older man to believe him. “I’ve spoken with Seamus, he served with Harry, and what I’ve heard-”

“You believe that random soldier boy more than your best friend since childhood-” Remus was angry. He wanted to shake Ron and scream at him not to be stupid. But it seemed to be too late for that. Ron had already withdrawn, had he come back tonight just to turn more people against Harry?

“No,” Ron hesitated. “Maybe yes. I don’t know! But Harry hasn’t been himself and I can’t take the chance. I just can’t.”

“You’ve been underneath the command voice,” Remus tried even as his hands wanted to form themselves to fists and punch. “You know how it feels.”

Ron shook his head. “Sometimes you realise your under it… not always. He might have been smart about it.”

“Fuck,” Remus dragged a shaking hand through his hair. “I thought you were better,” he breathed out as he leaned over the counter, allowing the surface to take his weight, he just felt so old, so tired.

“Remus-” Ron sounded pained.

“Harry!” A voice interrupted whatever the redhead had wanted to add. A voice that was all too familiar. Remus closed his eyes, whishing for strength to make it through tonight. Sirius walked in the door, his dark hair falling around his face, and sharp cheekbones as alluring as always.

Ron looked at Remus with knowing eyes. This would be the hundredth time Remus whished he hadn’t confided in Ron of all people when Sirius had left, just after Harry had gone off to boot camp.

Familiar pain made his fingertips tingle as Remus took a deep breath. “We’re not done talking about this,” he promised Ron as he watched Sirius give Harry a long hug, holding on to his godson a beat too long for it all to be without desperation. Harry had been back for about three years and Sirius still came by in the middle of the night, demanding to see Harry, to make sure he was still here.

Remus knew he’d blown his chance (like he’d ever had one) with Sirius; all he wished for right now was to maybe be the dark-haired cop’s friend. He didn’t even need to be ‘best friend’ as before, he would by now settle for anything.

“Sirius,” Harry sounded happy as he returned the hug, meeting his godfather with an equally strong grip. Sirius was tall fairly broad by normal standards, but getting hugged by Harry made him almost disappear. Remus figured that if Harry hadn’t been over and done with fighting he would have had a promising career in wrestling.

Sirius glanced towards the kitchen and Remus quickly made himself appear busy, opening the lid of the pot to check on the spaghetti. It looked ready. He grabbed a fork to fish up a wobbly string, just to make sure. He glanced up towards Sirius as he stood bent over the boiling water, he wondered if the dark-haired cop was watching him.

He wasn’t.

Instead Sirius was talking animated to Harry, his hands moving about as he seemed to tell Harry another story. Remus wondered what it might be about? He just couldn’t quite look away from Sirius and the way he smiled towards their godson. Towards Harry. He wondered if he would ever be on the receiving end of that beam again?

“Remus!” Ron’s shrill voice woke Remus from his sad musings as he blinked once, twice. Then he felt something alike ice touch his fingertips. He looked down because that was strange, the freezer was firmly closed and Ron wouldn’t try to do some sort of prank on him involving ice, now would he? Like, Ron was still going away and yeah… that didn’t seem logical at all.

Remus mind wasn’t really thinking straight but for a moment he tried to find an explanation to why his hand was freezing. Then he looked down.

His hand had slipped down some inches beneath the boiling water. Remus felt how that coldness turned hot and burning in front of his very eyes as he quickly pulled his hand away from the sizzling bubbles.

Fuck that hurt.

He couldn’t help but let out a whine, tears gathering in his eyes. It hurt. He bit down hard, feeling how his teeths ached at the pressure but he needed it. Needed something to keep him from letting out a scream of agony.

Ron was moving beside him, not that Remus noticed what the redhead did, he was busy just breathing as his fingers burned and hurt. His skin looked dangerously red as he grasped his hurt hand with his healthy one, squeezing hard around his fingers, trying to distract himself from the waves of pain coming in. Fuck.

“What’s happening?!” Harry was moving towards them, Draco and Sirius in town. Remus turned away from the crowd. He didn’t want to be seen like this, hurt because of his own clumsiness. Just because he’d allowed his mind to linger on Sirius he’d managed to burn his fingers, probably pretty bad. He closed his eyes wondering how he always managed to appear so dreadfully pathetic.

“He burnt his fingers in the boiling water,” Ron’s voice sounded slightly panicky. The redhead suddenly appeared right beside him holding a towel filled with ice from the freezer. “Give me your hand,” he demanded.

Remus shook his head. He couldn’t give Ron his hand right now, it just hurt really, really badly, and if he were to give him his hand he’d probably loose whatever grasp he had on the pain wrecking havoc inside of him, and then he probably cry, and then Sirius would see him being pathetic and then…

“Hey come on Rem.” Harry was beside him, one of his large arms wrapping itself around Remus’ shoulders carefully. “Give Ron your hand.”

Remus shook his head, pain forcing out tears. He hated the feeling of them rushing down his face. “It hurts,” he breathed out together with a bitten-off whine.

“The ice will help,” Harry reassured.

“No,” Remus looked down at his hurt fingers, they looked swollen and disgusting.

“Moony?”

He closed his eyes at the voice, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. Why did Sirius have to be here? Why did he have to be so fucking clumsy? Why hadn’t he fought more against Harry going with the army? Why had Sirius goddamn left him? Hadn’t Remus suffered enough by having to deal with an unrequired love for the better part of his life?

“No,” he whispered as he turned his face into Harry’s chest. Letting out a sob of pain… for a moment he was unsure if the pain making him cry was related at all to his second-degree burn.

_“It doesn’t hurt.”_

Remus shivered at Harry’s rumbling voice whispering in his ear.

“ _Your hand is hurt but you don’t feel anything. Nothing feels out of the ordinary_.” Harry’s breath ruffled his hair as Remus stayed pressed to Harry’s side. The thumping pain had stopped.

Simply ceased to exist.

Remus peered up at Harry, his brain trying to catch up to what had just happened.

“Thank you,” he whispered as he marvelled at the way his mind had stopped spinning out of control, of how his jaw suddenly could relax and how his left hand could stop trying to strangle his right.

“Let Ron help you,” Harry chided him. His eyes wide as a careful smile appeared. Harry still looked awfully concerned despite it all.

Remus held out his scorched fingers for Ron to press cold ice at. He hissed at the sudden coolness. Harry’s arm tightened briefly around him before relaxing again.

“Have you called the hospital?” Harry called over his head towards someone to the right.

“Yes!” That was Draco’s voice. “They want us to come in just to be safe as soon as possible.”

Remus felt himself being gently steered away from the stove towards the kitchen table. Harry pulled out a chair before gently but firmly pressing him down. Remus sat gratefully. His legs suddenly felt like jelly and a faint tremor appeared in his arms. It was probably some sort of shock, Remus suspected.

“You’ll be okay,” Harry whispered as he stroked Remus’ hair away from his forehead. Remus looked up and gave his godson a brittle smile. Despite this all being rather embarrassing he felt safe with Harry, always had.

_Ron was mental_ , Remus couldn’t help but think, utterly mental for doubting Harry, even for a second.

He settled down as people got moving around him, Harry leaving his side after a comforting squeeze to his shoulder, heading towards Draco and hugging the blonde briefly. Remus felt eyes staring at him as he leaned on the table, holding the towel filled with ice towards his hurt fingers. Ron was sitting opposed to him, talking about nothing in particular, in all probability trying to distract Remus from the situation. Ron had always been good at that, diffusing panic and anxiety.

Sirius was also looking at him. Of course he was. But Remus refused to allow his eyes to wander as he stared at Draco taking hold of Harry’s hand, holding onto his godson’s paw firmly. Remus looked up from their intertwined hands, the pale softness contrasting greatly to Harry’s rough, slightly tanned hands. He jerked slightly as he found Draco’s grey eyes staring at him, thoughtfully. Like the blonde was starting to realise something. Remus wondered what it was.

Draco gave him a soft smile and Remus returned it. Whatever Draco had figured out it wouldn’t be bad. Draco would never do anything bad to Harry, and thank god for that.

“The car will be ready for the hospital any minute now.” Ron’s voice made Remus break the stare he’d shared with Draco as he turned towards Ron.

“That’s good,” he breathed out. It still baffled him how his hand didn’t hurt. How Harry had managed to take away pain. There were questions running around in Remus’ head, but he suppressed them. He could ask them later, when he wasn’t recovering from second-degree burns.

“You’ll be fine,” Ron continued, some of the old Ron making an appearance in the words. A tug of longing made itself known in Remus’ chest as he nodded in answer.

“I know,” he replied. Because he would be fine.

His heart beat a little faster as he glimpsed concern dark eyes from across the room. Sirius.

Shame that fine wasn’t anywhere near happy though.

“The car is ready to go,” Blaise called from the hall.

Remus sighed deeply. Then he got up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, here’s another chapter!
> 
> School have started once again and there are loads of things to do all of a sudden. I’ve managed to fall into a pretty comfortable rhythm though so that’s promising. Anyhow this story is soon coming to an end, I’m thinking maybe two more chapters and then it’s completed. I’ve had a blast so far with writing this and would like to thank everybody who has tagged along! Your continued support truly means the world to me :) 
> 
> Anyhow I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Until next time stay awesome! :D


	9. I'm home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings are found in the tags. Might be some misspellings since English isn’t my mother language; feel free to comment if you find any ghastly ones. This fic is set in an alternative universe. Enjoy.

– 25 years old –

“I’m home!” Draco shouted as he stepped out of his shoes and hung his coat on the hanger. He glanced down at the carelessly thrown leather jacket on the floor. With a sigh and another call (“Harry for fucks sake, how many times must I tell you…”) he picked it up and hung it beside his own. He suspected that some habits would never die. How Remus and Sirius had succeeded to raise the most remarkable human being in all ways but this quite basic one would never fail to amaze Draco. He doubted the army had been lean on messes, but then again, Harry hadn’t quite been in the army. Special troops, the raven-haired giant had told Draco years ago.

Draco knew it all of course. Or most of it he supposed. The important things. He knew how it was to hold Harry at night as he cried and mumbled, “ _be you, be you_ ,” in his COM voice. He knew how Harry’s chest had small scars all over and how the big one on his left shoulder bothered him during cold days. He knew how Harry would sometimes grip Draco, shaking and holding him so, so close, whispering that he “couldn’t lose him” that he “rather die”.

It had scared Draco in the beginning. But not any longer. And it wasn’t like the episodes were all that frequent nowadays. No, where it had been four out of seven nights it was now sometimes only once a month.

Draco wondered if he was fixing Harry, he hoped so, for Harry’s sake.

He walked into their apartment, making sure to drop off his portfolio containing the papers from the bank on the desk in the study before making his way towards the living room.

“Harry,” he shouted again. “You can at least answer me!”

He turned a corner of the spacious apartment they’d bought a year ago and yeah… there was Harry. Snoring on the couch in front of the muted TV. Draco couldn’t suppress a fond smile. They’d made it, he thought. Despite war, engagements, and misunderstandings they’d made it.

He carefully walked towards Harry, making sure his steps were as silent as possible. He fell to his knees beside the sofa, allowing his hands to trace Harry’s sleeping features. He looked so peaceful, Draco couldn’t help but think. In this very moment, Harry Potter looked exactly like he was supposed to look. No tormented eyes, no grim face, and no shame in his posture for having a dangerous power at his disposal.

‘Dangerous power’… the COM. Draco couldn’t help but snort. Harry had been working at St Mungo’s, the largest hospital in London, since last autumn. He’d been a blessing. Being able to take away pain by a mere word, making the need for painkillers and anesthesia disappear completely. He’d also cured people of smoking and drug habits. And that’s not even mentioning the mental disorders where he’d with the help of specialised doctors put a stop to everything from suicidal tendencies to Anorexia and PTSD.

Harry was happy nowadays. Happier than Draco had ever seen him truth be told. Even more than he had been before the army. Sure, there were still moments more often than not where Harry was reminded that he had done harm, that people still feared him, but at least those moments were overshadowed by people thanking him and praising his name.

Draco watched as his fingertips dragged over a defined chest, down over the soft hills and tracing Harry’s abdominal muscles. They were still so very defined, even years after his military service, just as Harry’s hands had never truly turned soft after his stay down south. Draco wondered if he should feel guilty about how much those very things turned him on. Harry being looming and strong while he himself was delicate and slender. Maybe… probably…

Well, Harry didn’t mind. Not since one of Harry’s favourite pastimes was to throw Draco around, pressing him up against walls and rendering him immobile against hard surfaces. Draco could still see dark spots around his wrist after a particularly memorable afternoon with Harry holding him down, his wrists captured in one of Harry’s strong paws.

Draco felt his breath began to escape a bit quicker. Shit.

He allowed his hands to drift upwards again, cupping a strong jaw. He marveled at their slight difference in skin colour. His so very pale, while Harry’s was a golden brown after hours spent training outdoors. Draco used to join Harry running every now and again, but… it always ended with Draco calling quits, Harry was impossible to keep up with, simply impossible. Maybe he should start running alone?

But then Harry would in all probability pout or something equally adorable and Draco would yield without a second thought and yeah… Seemed kind of pointless to even try bringing up solo runs.

Harry stirred beneath Draco’s hands. Turning slightly on the couch, his dark hair falling into his face as familiar emerald eyes surfaced. “Hi,” Harry whispered, his voice a dark rumble.

Draco couldn’t help but shiver, his thighs trembling slightly all of a sudden. “Hello to you too,” he answered, cursing his voice as it deemed it appropriate to falter.

Harry smirked as he took in Draco and his slightly flushed face. “Someone’s feeling bothered.”

Draco couldn’t help but blush at that even as he tried to keep up a dignified front. It was really unfair that Harry still managed to make him weak in the knees two years after they’d started having sex on the regular. Draco really shouldn’t feel this impossible attracted to Harry as he did.

“So what?” he huffed, withdrawing his hands slowly. Harry easily caught them before he’d moved them too far. Draco couldn’t help but allow a cocky smile to briefly fit over his lips, Draco might be putty in Harry’s hands, but Harry was non-the-less predictable. Because just as Draco would always be helplessly weak for Harry, Harry would be just as weak for him.

“Hey,” Harry chided as he dragged Draco upwards with a jerk, making Draco hastily move his legs as not to simply face plant into Harry’s torso. “Come here kitten.” Harry’s tone was slightly mocking but filled of warmth.

Draco didn’t know how he did it. But Harry always riled him up.

“Don’t call me ‘kitten’,” Draco hissed as he straddled Harry’s form on the sofa. “I’m not a cat.”

Harry just gazed at him, lazily running his hands up and down Draco’s side, his fingers almost touching when he put slight pressure on Draco’s narrow waist. Harry hummed in answer, his eyes stuck at where his hands circled his middle, seemingly distracted by trying to make his fingers meet, making an intact circle.

“Harry,” Draco blushed at how his voice sounded more like a moan than a reprimand. He tensed his stomach, forcing his muscles to work against the force of Harry’s hands. Harry flashed a smile as he increased the pressure, his brows knitted in concentration.

Harry was always exceedingly precise with how much power he used, he loved to practise control in most things he did. Draco had lived with it daily for years and honestly, he didn’t mind. Harry opened up and talked to him and that was all that mattered, as long as he didn’t hide behind steel and brick Draco was more than happy with allowing Harry control. Especially since Harry always made it clear that Draco had absolute power in the end. One word was all it would take.

Draco felt his muscles give as Harry squeezed his waist firmly to the point where his middle fingers brushed over Draco’s lower back and his thumbs touched just above his navel. Harry close to purred as he effortlessly rolled over on the couch, bringing Draco under him on his stomach with frightening ease. Draco felt partly crushed underneath a massive bulk. The moan escaping him didn’t particularly help his case nor did the wiggling motion as he felt Harry’s hardness against his backside.

“You going to be good, kitten?” Harry asked as he thrust roughly against him, making Draco try to free his hands that were crushed underneath himself just to have something to press against his own hardening cock.  

“I said don’t call me that!” Draco put up a token fight against Harry. Not that it was much of a fight; Draco could after all, not move. Instead he wriggled uselessly, Harry’s hot breath making the hairs on his neck rise as he rapidly realised he was completely at Harry’s mercy.

Draco gave up after a minute or two, just breathing heavily underneath the steady pressure above him, his arms trapped underneath him and his legs forced open by Harry resting between them, Draco turned his head so not to squash his face into the couch. His back was burning hot where Harry was lying.

“You going to be good for me now?” Harry asked in amusement, kissing Draco’s neck softly. Draco tried to turn away but he didn’t really have anywhere to turn to, instead he found himself still pinned down, having to suffer through Harry’s nibbling and licking, a familiar hardness pressing into his arse and a heavy weight keeping him down.

“Why don’t you make me?” Draco asked, putting as much suggestion as he dared into the words. Sometimes Harry didn’t want to, and that was okay, but sometimes, yeah… Draco felt himself harden fully just thinking about “sometimes”. Because “sometimes” Harry _agreed_...

It had happened more frequently this last year, ever since he’d started working for the hospital. It had been a blessing really, for Harry to start associating his power with good things instead of bad.  

Harry stilled briefly above him, his mouth leaving Draco’s neck as he thought through the proposition, not to just make Draco _feel_ good but to _make_ Draco _be_ good.

“You know I’ll have to…” He trailed off. And yes, Draco was aware. He felt his heart flutter.

“I know,” he responded, trying (and probably failing) to hide his eagerness.

Harry bent down, his breath caressing Draco’s ear as he undoubtedly thought through the words. Harry opened his mouth, a dark rumble vibrating through Draco’s very core as he allowed the COM to wash over him.

“ _Every command I say, you’ll know it for what it is. If there’s ever a moment where you feel fear or hesitation you say ‘Expelliarmus’. This will override any other commands_.” Harry’s voice was that certain sort of dark like it always was whenever he uttered a COM.

The blonde felt how the words sunk into him, same as always. He nodded to show he understood. There was something akin to a wave inside of Draco, a wave of anticipation and adrenaline. He began to shake, his eyes wide and glossed over before they’d even begun.

“Please,” Draco let out shamelessly.

“ _Be still_ ,” Harry’s rumble of a voice made Draco’s body react instantaneously as he followed the COM. He breathed out into the soft cushions on the couch, aware of the hot body above him, of how Harry’s hand had started to run through his hair in a languid fashion.

He let out another trembling breath as Harry tugged gently on his blond straws. Harry began moving against him slowly as a hot mouth returned to nibble at his neck, leaving sloppy kisses dripping of saliva. Harry knew how much Draco complained about him being messy, just as he knew how much Draco loved it.

Draco couldn’t do much else than lie there, trembling and aching as Harry moved his head however he wanted and kissed him around his throat, underneath his neck, down his spine. Draco shuddered as he let out a whine.

“ _You’re wonderful Draco_ ,” Harry whispered. Draco felt a familiar warmth spread inside his stomach at the words. He whined louder as Harry’s sharp teeth bit down at the back of his neck, just shy of painful. Then there was suction. Draco knew he was going to have a gigantic bruise later on, knowing Harry he’d probably left it above the collar line, but Draco had allowed his hair to grow long for a reason.

Harry tugged his hair again, a wave of arousal hitting Draco between leg.

Okay, he admitted to himself. He might have allowed his hair to grow long because of two reasons.

He felt how the solid weight above him lifted and – in a whirlwind of limbs and “Christ” – his back was suddenly pressed against Harry’s chest. Harry held him against him with ease, Draco’s own body still listening to the COM by being entirely slack.

Harry was still busy marking his territory by undoubtedly leaving big, angry red marks all over Draco’s neck. He wondered if his secretary would suspect abuse rather than vigorous love-making when he arrived at the office tomorrow?

Draco wanted to arch his back and let out a moan, but alas, instead he had to settle for a moan-turned-whine as Harry’s sharp teeth bit into the soft flesh around his jugulars. There was a valid suspicion in Draco’s mind that Harry had returned to England after the army half feral. Not that he complained. Well… not a lot.

“Harry,” Draco complained as his hands hung uselessly before him. The fire blazed inside of him and he desperately wanted to touch. Longed to have his pale hands run down a muscled torso and through wild, dark hair.

“Draco,” Harry teased with a low rumble, one of his stupid big hands pressing at Draco’s hardness rather unashamedly. Draco hissed at the contact, Christ, what he wouldn’t do to just be able to rut into that warm hand pressing against his slacks. But Harry was in control and Draco couldn’t help but tremble in response to his actions.  

Harry’s hand stopped teasing his cock and made quick work of his trousers instead. Opening up the fly with a practised hand while continuing to nibble on Draco’s neck.

“ _That’s it sweetheart_ ,” he whispered filthily in Draco’s ear. His rumble of a voice making Draco’s back vibrate. “ _Be a good kitten and get out of those clothes would you_.”

Draco’s hands had started to move before his hazy mind had even registered the order. He tore at his shirt with eager hands, not daring to fight the order that urged him to hurry, hurry… Harry looked unfairly attractive despite sleep still clinging to his being in the way his hair was a mess and his clothes wrinkled. But there was nothing sleepy in his eyes, those burning green eyes that were busy devouring him as he finally managed to get his shirt open and off. He let out a victorious cry as he began shuffling down his already opened trousers.

“ _Slower kitten_.” Harry interrupted Draco’s fast working fingers with another stupid order. Draco sent a pout Harry’s direction even as he stopped tearing at his trousers and instead slowly allowed the cotton-fabric to slide off his long, pale legs.

Harry’s eyes were wide as he took him in, green gaze almost black and with a hunger that made Draco’s cock twitch in excitement. Draco looked down for a heartbeat, face heating as he finally stepped out of his slacks and stood firm in only his pants and socks.

“ _Come here_ ,” Harry gestured to the floor in front of his seated form. Draco stepped forward until he stood between Harry’s opened legs. Large hands immediately reached out to grab him, thumbs stroking alongside his sharp hipbones before a hand squeezed his already hard cock briefly. Draco closed his eyes at the short, but, heavenly notion. There was a frustration buzzing underneath his skin, he wanted Harry to continue to touch him, badly.

“I’m here,” Draco reminded him impatiently because maybe he wanted Harry to stop taking his sweet time and get down to fucking. Not that Harry ever seemed to be in a particular hurry. Not even that one time they’d fucked in a nightclub’s restroom had he been quick about it. Draco had been pressed up against that filthy stall-wall for seemingly hours.

Harry looked up at him, clearly more wolf than human in this very moment. Large hands began peeling off Draco’s underwear, allowing his cock to leap out of its confining and smack against his stomach once. Draco shuddered.

“ _Step out of the socks kitten_ ,” Harry whispered even as he almost carelessly reached out and cupped Draco’s cock with a rough palm. Handling him like he owned him with how he examined first his cock and then his balls, rolling them in his hand while looking up at Draco with a sharp smile. Draco managed to get rid of the socks while all this was happening. He swallowed audibly.

Harry removed his hand after a while, like he’d just made sure everything was in order. Draco felt his thighs tremble again and his stomach was doing flips as he forced himself to stand still and wait for Harry’s next words.

He didn’t have to wait long.

“ _Get down on your knees kitten. Take me out_ ,” Harry sounded amused as he leaned back on the couch, a throne made out of cloth, pillows, and springs.

Draco barely noticed the command. He only knew that the world tilted as he sunk down to his knees, his hands opening Harry’s jeans with outmost care, sliding down the zipper carefully. A large hand found his hair and rough fingers ran through his locks.

“ _I like your hair long_ ,” Harry praised him, sending a wave of something bright and fuzzy through Draco. “ _Gives me something to grab_.”

Draco felt himself blush as he continued to help Harry get his cock out properly. Harry slid down the trousers slightly, but not much.

There was something about being completely naked while simultaneously being completely at Harry’s mercy that just pushed all of Draco’s buttons. He let out a whine as his hands finally grabbed hold of pulsing heat. Harry’s cock was almost completely hard as it rested in Draco’s slender hands. He wanted to run his finger up and down, longed to lean forward and breath in the overwhelming scent of Harry’s sex. But he couldn’t. He was only supposed to get down on his knees and take Harry out. That had been the order.

“Harry,” Draco breathed as he arched his back slightly, puffing out his chest and looking up at his boyfriend underneath long lashes. Harry always liked it when he looked pretty, and Draco wasn’t above using that to his advantage. “I want to suck your cock,” he made sure to drag out the ‘o’ in cock, his pink tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Harry?”

Harry was staring at him, and while his pose might appear languid, almost relaxed, the illusion was cracked by the way his jaw worked and how his eyes burned. Harry was a few precious threads from snapping. Draco arched his back impossible further, leaning down as far as the COM allowed him, almost touching Harry’s cock with his wetted lips.

Harry didn’t leave him hanging for once. “ _Suck me_.”

Draco allowed a victorious smirk to emerge even as he leaned down and took Harry into his mouth. Christ, why did it always feel this overwhelming every time he did this?

So, Draco went to town. His mouth working as he slid up and down Harry’s thick cock. He pushed down as far as he could until he felt the head tease his throat. He wanted to swallow past it but then Harry’s hands wound up in his hair, steering him with a firmness that was just as hard to resist as Harry’s COMs. He allowed himself to be pushed around, the familiar hands knowing his limits all too well.

Draco made sure to move his tongue as he held his mouth pursed in a perfect ‘o’. Harry breathed out harshly from above. Draco peered up at Harry even as he felt himself _gag_ slightly. Harry’s hands instantly dragged him off his pulsing cock. But unlike the first time Draco had blown Harry while underneath a COM Harry didn’t panic. Instead he pushed Draco’s head to his thigh, allowing the blonde to kiss the base of Harry’s cock lazily as he gathered his bearings.

Draco felt the scratch of coarse hair against the side of his jaw as he sucked lightly on the velvet skin. He made sure his lips were wet as he flicked his tongue back and forth. Harry slipped a finger into his mouth as he nuzzled the curve at the base of Harry’s shaft. He paid as much attention as he could to the finger. The command was still urging him to blow Harry, to let his lips slide against familiar, hot skin, but he managed to caress the digit with his tongue every now and again.

He rested there for a while, catching his breath and keeping Harry hard. Draco wasn’t surprised that time was ticking; it always did whenever they clashed together. Harry was just so fucking slow, Draco couldn’t help but think as he tried to push his cock against Harry’s leg, just to rub off a bit, he desperately needed to.

The COM didn’t let him. Of course it fucking didn’t.

“Harry,” Draco whined between sloppy sucks. How long had he been down here? Five, ten or twenty minutes?

Harry looked content, of course the shithead did. Almost blissed out, like sex was a thing to enjoy during hours instead of minutes, like a fine wine.

Not that Harry would get that comparison, after all, he didn’t drink.

But at least his plea made Harry’s eyes crinkle fondly as he allowed Draco to blow him properly once more, only keeping a loose hand resting on the top of his head as he resumed bobbing over Harry’s lap. Draco moaned as he tried to push down deeper than before, ignoring the way his throat protested. He’d taken all of Harry many times, but it always took some time to get his throat used to it. He needed a bit of a warm-up.

Harry’s hand carded through his hair as Draco continued bobbing, pushing down further and further each time. He felt the tickle of Harry’s coarse pubic hair against his chin and knew he was almost there. Next bob yielded success. He pressed down firmly, his nose touching against Harry’s lower stomach.

The lack of air was almost annoying as he kept still, feeling Harry rest hot and heavy inside his throat. Harry’s big hand carded through his hair as he stayed there, his throat fluttering wildly.

Time ticked by.

“ _Up kitten_ ,” Harry ordered at last.

Draco didn’t quite want to, he loved the feeling of silence in his head whenever he sucked Harry off. But he did get up. How could he not, it had been a COM after all.

Draco slipped off Harry’s cock with a faint “pop”, a string of spit connecting his lips to Harry’s hard member. Harry was looking at him with that burning gaze that always seemed to threaten to set him truly alight. Draco would enjoy dancing in those flames. He leaned forward to nuzzle Harry’s groin, the warmth was addicting.

He managed to leave a couple of sloppy kisses before the hand in his hair gripped tightly and forced him to move. He found himself getting jerked forward fairly quickly, stumbling as he crawled into Harry’s lap, placing his knees on either side of Harry on the couch as his face was pressed against a firm neck. He breathed shakily against Harry’s beating pulse, pressing his lips against the sun-kissed skin and simply allowing himself to calm down.

“ _Wonderful sweetheart_ ,” Harry whispered in his ear, his dark voice vibrating through Draco in sinful waves. “ _You’re so wonderful_.”

Draco couldn’t help but let out an audible purr, he’d deal with the teasing later. He allowed himself to press against Harry, first carefully, but when his advantages weren’t met with resistance more desperately.

Harry’s stupid clothes were in the way. He hugged Harry closer, nibbling on the edge of a sharp jaw and moved his body in waves while sneakily beginning to tear at Harry’s T-shirt. He almost started to believe his distractions would yield success when a large paw closed over his sneaking hands.

Harry pushed him backward as he gave him an amused glance. The extra room made it possible for Harry to take off his shirt completely, revealing rippling muscles that made Draco’s mouth go dry. Harry hadn’t told him not to touch so Draco’s hands shot forward – almost as if they had a mind of their own – to slide over hard muscles and warm skin.

Harry was looking at him with knowing eyes, more than aware of Draco’s fascination with him. He allowed Draco to touch for a while. Something Draco took full advantage of as he pressed closer, putting his mouth on familiar scars and hot skin. He rubbed his face into Harry’s neck, biting softly and breathing in the familiar scent he’d come to relate to home and happy.

But Harry liked to have Draco at his mercy, liked to have him pinned underneath him and loved to have him pliant and wanting. In other words, Draco’s explorations didn’t last too long. Because all of a sudden, large hands landed on his arse, kneading it hard, almost a bit painful. Not that Draco complained.

“Oh,” he breathed out as he moved into the hands, taking the opportunity to rub his cock over Harry’s ripped belly before he once again would be restrained.

“ _Hips away from me_ ,” Harry commanded easily and Draco’s body followed the order. That didn’t mean he couldn’t pout, but before he really managed to get a puppy-look going familiar fingers began edging around his entrance.

Draco felt blood rush to his face as his breath grew more erratic. “Harry,” he still managed to get out. “Fucking Christ Harry.”

“ _Kitten_ ,” Harry the dumbass only responded, but Draco didn’t have it in himself to complain about the name. It was the world’s most badly hidden secret that he adored every tacky name Harry threw his way. Harry knew this, he also knew that Draco would never admit it. Well, at least not outside of being COM:ed to admit it.

Harry’s fingers were wet, slick and hot. Draco hadn’t even noticed him getting lube.

“ _Kiss me,_ ” Harry whispered and Draco did. It reminded him of something, kissing Harry like this. He couldn’t stop tugging at soft lips and licking into hot insides and Draco was burning. His skin ablaze as fingers sunk into him, _in to_ him.

He let out small breathes against Harry’s mouth as the familiar feeling of Harry’s fingers being inside of him, of Harry exploring familiar walls inside of him. It made him feel lightheaded. It was so impossibly good, so goddamn impossibly good.

“ _No more kissing_ ,” Harry whispered, leaving Draco to try to produce a pout again even as he let out small, badly suppressed moans. “ _So good for me, kitten. So hot inside_.”

“You could get on with it,” Draco tried to bite out, making his voice impatient even as Harry hit his prostate dead on. Making Draco’s attempt to get Harry to hurry the fuck on backlash. Instead Harry started to move slower, eyes gleaming dangerously from where he leaned on the couch with Draco in his lap.

He still wore his trousers. Sure, they were opened and his cock was right there, but still.

Draco shuddered as Harry’s fingers pressed against his prostate again, making Draco see fireworks underneath his eyelid as he closed eyes in reverence. There was just no way, he thought as pleasure crashed through him in waves, there was no way to concentrate on anything else than this. Than Harry.

And he knew all too well that that was exactly what Harry wanted. He was three fingers deep and despite that Draco knew that it would be at least another half hour before he even started to consider fucking Draco.

But Draco wouldn’t make it that easy for him.

His hand shot out and grabbed hold of Harry’s cock. He moved his hand up and down quickly, easily gliding with the saliva from earlier aiding him. The trick was to get a fast rhythm quick because sometimes Harry would yield to the temptation to just get on with it, so sometimes Draco would win.

He let out pretty moans even as his hand worked fervently. Harry’s eyes fluttered and Draco took that inch for what it was, his other hand joining his first by taking Harry’s balls into his hand, massaging them gently, exactly as Harry liked it.

“Harry, love, Harry,” he let out breathlessly and started to move his hips, the COM making sure he wasn’t rubbing his cock on anything but that didn’t matter. Not if Harry just kept twitching underneath his hands, Draco was sure he would be fucked within minutes. Harry’s hands jerked where they were clenched on Draco’s hips and moving in and out of him. And Draco loved it, the times he got an inch on Harry, the times where he got to break Harry’s control just for a moment. Making him get lost in him, lost in them.

The moment never lasted for particularly long, but Draco would still be gleeful for a week after this.

True as always, Harry’s eyes opened rather widely just a few beats later. “ _Let go of my cock Draco_ ,” he bit out, dark rumble making Draco’s cock weep precome. He easily followed the COM, his body vibrating as he kept moving on Harry’s fingers, kept moaning prettily even as he stared down at Harry before him.

Harry looked murderous, Draco felt ecstatic.

“ _Hands behind your back_.”

God, this was rare, Draco had to force himself away from the sudden edge, so close to coming, un-fucking-touched and all. His hands gripped one another behind his back, his pulse beating like crazy underneath his skin.

Harry’s fingers were more insistent as they moved inside of him, aiming almost cruelly at his prostate and making Draco close to wail from the mind-fraying pleasure that came with it. His cock was rock hard and he would come, no chance in hell for him to last, he would fucking come.

So, when Harry looked at him, his eyes burning and sharp smile lethal and said, “ _Don’t you dare come until I tell you_.” Draco was fucking blown away. Blown, the fuck, away. They hadn’t done that before. Why hadn’t they done that before?!

Harry pushed against his prostate, keeping pressure against it and Draco felt a shudder run through his body as his every muscle tensed. For a moment, he was sure that the COM hadn’t worked. That he none-the-less would shoot his load quite unashamedly right on Harry’s abs.

But then he just didn’t come.

His body was like in a fever and the pleasure was bordering on fucking painful, but he didn’t come. He… he couldn’t.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he wailed out as Harry began shuffling with his trousers five years after what was really fucking appropriate. “I can’t come,” he sounded so damn surprised and bothered and hot. Harry must be having a fucking field day.

“ _Down on your back_ ,” Harry just ordered despite how he looked smug as fuck. “ _Hands above your head._ ”

Draco must have crossed some sort of line because everything was slightly fuzzy and his body felt like maybe it had died and gone to heaven. There were small tingles all over and he could swear that there were electrical shocks running through him every odd moment. It felt like maybe he would break quite easily. Like maybe he would just start floating away at any moment. It… it was quite overwhelming.

Harry was there then, and the skin contact was grounding like little else. “ _Forget what I said about your hips,”_ he muttered into Draco’s ear, easily sinking into the V of his legs. The contact should have made him come, a violent shudder running through Draco’s body once more as he realised he truly couldn’t come. He was just at the edge, leaning over it further than what should be possible without falling, and yet… Here he was, underneath Harry and out of his goddamn mind.

Harry looked at him, eyes hungry and mouth like a shark’s. Draco wondered if he would be missing a limb in the morning.

“ _I’m going to fuck you_ ,” he whispered, voice a rumble and Draco couldn’t concentrate, not really. It was only the way Harry’s voice was impossible to not listen to that made communication doable. “ _Give it to you so sweetly. I would give nothing less to my kitten_.”

Draco opened his mouth but there wasn’t really anything coming out, nothing understandable anyhow, just a ramble of noises. Sure, the noises were desperate so perhaps Harry understood the message well enough. _Get on with it_ , Draco wanted to say but right now he could barely think the words.  

When Harry pressed in Draco was still a bit out of it to really enjoyed the stretch. His hands were locked above his head and he couldn’t quite do anything as he chipped for air, noises being pressed out of him with every rock of Harry into his body.

Draco felt himself falling further from the edge as his body shivered violently once more. Denied, again. He could barely see Harry despite him being half an inch away from him, he could only feel scorching heat and electricity.

Then Harry was all the way in and then he was moving. His cock perfect and big inside of Draco as he held on, mind somewhere far away and yet perfectly near. Draco might be drooling, he barely noticed.

“ _So good_ ,” Harry kissed his slack lips, coaxing him to respond slowly, his mind like syrup. Draco was unsure if he’d ever felt this much and this little ever before. It was like he were here but at the same time not, like there was this static in the background and the only thing clear to him was Harry’s voice. It should scare him, but it didn’t… not even a little. Because Harry was right here. Holding him.

“Harry,” Draco mumbled, unsure if he’d really said the word or if it was just in his mind.

“ _Right here_ ,” Harry answered so perhaps he had said it out loud. He was moving faster now. Hips quick and sure as always and hands roaming Draco’s body like they’d never get enough of him. “ _I’ll always be right here_.”

Draco might have been crying. He didn’t quite know but there was this feeling inside of him that was so big that he felt small. Harry’s cock felt good as it moved, hitting his prostate with vicious accuracy and Draco spread his legs further, inviting Harry to come closer. To maybe get lost inside of Draco, to never be able to leave.

“Love you,” Draco breathed out. “Love you so much, never leave.”

Harry and he were sharing breaths, drowning in each other’s eyes even as Draco moved slightly due to the force of Harry’s hips, because of the way Harry was holding him down and taking care of him.

“ _Never_ ,” Harry promised as so many times before, eyelids fluttering. “ _They’ll have to kill me first_.”

Draco would want to answer that, but there was this feeling again, like maybe he was falling over the edge to insanity. His body was vibrating by now, a non-stop vibrating. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of his soul trying to escape his body. It was… it was just such a big feeling, bigger than anything he’d ever felt.

“ _Come_ ,” Harry whispered even as he kept thrusting, his cock hard as a rock and so good inside of Draco. “ _Come my love_.”

And Draco did. And the world turned blissfully white. He was safe, he was loved and Harry… well, Harry was _right here_.

– 26 years old –

Ron was surprised. Correction, he was blown away because whoever he’d thought would knock on his door it hadn’t even occurred to him it might be Lily Evans-Potter. It was mindboggling and for a second he thought that perhaps she had the wrong address. Ridiculous of course, Lily lived in London and this was Brighton, she was at the right address.

For a beat they just stood there, staring at one another.

Lily looked good for being around fifty. Her hair was still red, not a grey strand in sight and despite that her face might have had a wrinkle or two she didn’t look a day over forty. She was dressed in a large coat and there was a little boy holding her hand. He appeared to be about two years old. It had been late, Lily and James’ last child. He looked eerily like Harry with his dark hair and green eyes. But he didn’t have Harry’s cheekbones, neither James nor Lily did really, those had come from Harry’s biological father, the monster.

“Well,” Lily said, her voice cold as always. “Are you going to invite us in?”

Ron didn’t really want to, but Harry’s younger brother stared up at him, so heartbreakingly alike his big brother that Ron couldn’t refuse.

“Sure,” he managed, voice a bit hoarse. “Come in, please.”

Hermione was out today and wouldn’t be home for hours. He wasn’t going to find any rescue from her… He just had to deal with Lily and the youngest of the Potter siblings. Ron felt shame crawl up his throat as he realised he didn’t even know Harry’s little brother’s name.

“So this is…” He smiled towards the kid hiding behind Lily’s frame, his small hands clutching her leg.

Lily easily slipped out of her coat, a red cardigan, and blue jeans underneath, before answering. “Liam,” she answered. “His name is Liam Daniel Potter.”

Liam didn’t say much, his eyes peering curiously and unashamedly at Ron like only a child could. Ron tried not to break down at the familiar eyes, the familiar frame, he- he hadn’t talked with Harry for a while, perhaps half a year. And he usually didn’t think about it. Didn’t think about how Hermione sometimes stared out the windows with sad eyes and shaking hands. How he’d _done_ that, how he’d made both of them stay away.

It… it was better not to think about it… like, not at all. But that was impossible at the moment. With Liam and Lily and all the memories swarming him like bats in a dark cave.

The odd trio went into the living room next to the hall after another moment. Ron tried to make stilted conversation but Lily barely gave him anything to work with as she tugged Liam along.

“We’ve just settled properly with the renovations and all.”

“Right.”

“Here’s the living room, would you like a cup of tea? Anything for Liam?”

“No, we’re fine.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

Ron didn’t want whatever this was. Because, what was this? He’d expected Draco in a fury, eyes ablaze and tongue cutting, he hadn’t expected Lily. Lily hated Harry so why was she here? Did she even know he didn’t talk to Harry anymore?

“It has come to my attention,” Lily said slowly after seconds of nothing. “That you and Harry don’t talk anymore.”

Right, so she knew. “Yes,” Ron said, trying not to shift on the couch as he stared at Liam looking around the room, mouth slightly opened as he took in the open spaces and large bay window. He held onto Lily’s hand, his small fingers disappearing in the hold.

Lily petted Liam’s head softly, smiling down at him with a warmth Ron hadn’t believed her capable of before. Then she looked up, smile gone. “This must be strange,” she started, green eyes flickering about for a moment before settling. Staring right at Ron. “I know not you nor anyone close to Harry likes me.”

Like was an understatement. Ron remembered how he on multiple occasions had thought _bitch_ whenever he saw Lily. Had dreamt of her just disappearing out of their lives, out of Harry’s life. She’d always been like a poison you couldn’t remove, slowly but surely killing you, – or in Harry’s case – killing your self-esteem. He wondered how different their life would have been if she hadn’t been there to call Harry a freak or a monster.

Very different he suspected. Perhaps, he would still be talking to Harry? Perhaps they would still go for runs, still go to the pub or still just hang with their friends? Perhaps they would still have been like they used to?

“Yeah,” Ron answered Lily’s statement after three beats too many. Because he had hated her, probably still did.

But Lily didn’t seem to take offense, she just nodded like this was something she already knew. Well, it would perhaps have been stranger if she hadn’t known, especially after how many times Remus had shouted at her, cursed her straight to her face.

“I’m going to say this because I owe Harry that,” Lily continued after a beat. “And despite how I’m never going to be able to love Harry or see him as anything else than a reminder of that… that… monster, I owe him. He’s still my son.”

“You’ve never acted as a mother,” Ron couldn’t help but bite out despite how he hasn’t talked to Harry in six months, despite how he’s still fucking terrified of Harry James Potter. Seamus had shown him videos, he’d seen the monster Lily had always accused him of being.

“I know. But that doesn’t mean I don’t _know_ him,” Lily said, as calm as ever. Like talking about how she’d shunned her own child didn’t even touch her. It was horrible. Horrible and disgusting and Ron had to fight back tears because of reasons out of his reach. He just couldn’t help but imagine Hermione acting like this towards their future child and… and… _no_. Just, no.

Lily petted Liam on the head again, ever so softly.

“So, what are you saying? You’re going to convince me to start talking to Harry again despite that you yourself refuse to even be in the same room as him?” Ron wasn’t happy with the way his voice trembled. Just as he wasn’t happy with the notion that perhaps he’d fallen down to the same level as Lily. That perhaps it was too late. That even if he regretted missed dinners and birthdays, Harry wouldn’t take him back anyhow.

“No,” Lily said like it was simple. “But I’m going to tell you the truth.”

Ron couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, _the truth huh_ …

“Harry,” Lily paused for a beat. “Harry isn’t anything like _He_ who kept me trapped in his basement for over ten years.”

Ron couldn’t help but blink at that. Lily didn’t talk about her kidnapping. All he knew was that there had been rumours and his mom had muttered about ‘ _that poor girl’_ during those first years he’d known Harry. Later on, his mom had started to frown at Lily’s behaviour like everybody else, but he remembered those first years. His mom had always been sad when talking about Harry’s mom, had always muttered ‘ _but she is strong that woman, Lily Evans_.’

He still didn’t know the details. Just knew that Sirius and James had found her covered in her kidnapper’s blood and with a crying baby in her arms.

_She’d been stuck there for **ten** years_.

“I was fifteen at the time and there was this man who one day told me while I was walking home from school to come with him. Of course, he didn’t ask me to come, he _told_ me.”

Ron nodded even as Lily continued.

“At the beginning, I thought I was in love. There… there was this voice in my head that told me everything was fine and that I was happy being with this stranger. Of course, after a couple of months I started to realise that the voice wasn’t mine, that I had been _ordered_.”

It must have been horrible. Ron had been compelled by Harry several times to do things, ‘shut up’ most of the time, but Harry had always reversed it as quick as possible and had always apologised profusely. At least that was how Ron had perceived it, who knew what Harry had told him to forget? Who knew what orders Harry had left inside of him that might be there still… But Ron wasn’t sure. And problem was that because he wasn’t sure he couldn’t let it go.

“I was about fifteen years old when he started to force me to be with him. Be with him at night. During the days I just cleaned his house like an obedient little wife and waited for him to come home. He told me that _I was happy_ , told me that _I loved him_. And most of the time the voice inside my head was louder than my own thoughts… most of the time I really believed I loved him.” Lily grew quiet, her hand shaking slightly where they were still petting Liam’s head.

“I’m sorry,” Ron said as Lily seemed to gather herself. “I… I can’t imagine.”

Lily’s gaze snapped up from where she’d stared at Liam. Eyes narrowing. “It was easier after a few years. I started to be able to separate what he _told_ me and what I felt. I still couldn’t do anything but I knew that I didn’t want this, that I didn’t do things because of my own free will... It… it got easier you see,” Lily stared at Ron as if she were willing him to understand.

“Easier?” Ron’s tongue felt thick as he spoke.

Lily nodded. “When we are _told_ to do things that lasts we start to see it for what it is after a while. Like a tick. Perhaps you think it’s just dirt or a mole the first two weeks, but after a while it’s obvious it’s something else, something wrong.”

Ron was already shaking his head. “You don’t understand,” he said. “I saw videos from the front. Harry had people reporting back to him. He made them puppets and told them to do things… You could never know who he controlled, you couldn’t know if it was you he controlled-”

“Ron,” Lily interrupted him firmly. “It’s a difference, being here or being down south facing blazing guns and death. You know that right?”

Ron was leaning forward, all fears and worries running up to the surface as he breathlessly spilled his deepest darkest fears. “He’s been different you know. The war changed him, you just needed to take one look at his face to see it. And you saw it too, you were, are, terrified of him.”

“Ron,” Lily was shaking her head and why was she shaking her head? She if someone should agree with him. “I will always be terrified of him. I can’t help it. I was stuck in that basement for ten years. I was constantly scared and assaulted for ten years. That never disappears.”

“But,” Ron hesitated. “But you’re more scared of Harry now as well… You can barely stand to look at him.”

“He looks less like James, alright…” Lily sounded defeated, her hands trembling slightly. “Those cheekbones, his posture, the way he looks completely possessed with that Malfoy kid, he… reminds me of Him.”

“He wouldn’t hurt Draco,” Ron protested before he even knew he planned to say anything. But it was true, Harry would never, _ever_ hurt Draco.

Lily looked at Ron, her eyes firm. “No… he wouldn’t. Even you see that.”

Ron shook his head because perhaps it was Lily who didn’t understand. This wasn’t about Draco, this was about everyone else. “But what he might do… like, perhaps he doesn’t do it right now. But he has done it once, no matter the circumstances. He can do it again. Control people, build the perfect world around him with just a few words.”

Lily leaned forward, her arms bracing against her knees, she truly was an impressive woman despite all her flaws. “I have known just ‘ _what he’s able to do’_ the last twenty-something years. I’ve been scared and I’ve hated myself during the last twenty-something years. And I’ve always known that giving birth to Harry might one day become the biggest mistake I’ve ever done. I’ve known that, and I still _know_ that.”

“I heard that He forced you to carry through with Harry?” Ron couldn’t help but say, voice weak because he didn’t know how to feel about this. Not any of it. He’d done his goddamn best not to think about Harry and how had things turned so impossibly hard?

Lily nodded slowly, catching up with Ron’s erratic conversation pattern. “He did. He also tried to kill Harry you know,” Lily’s eyes were a burning green. “When he was about six months old he tried to order him and it didn’t work. So, he decided to kill him. Which led to me offing the monster before he could carry through.”

Ron blinked slowly as his mind spun. What did she just say? Like, _what_ did she just say?!

 “You hate Harry,” was all he could think of. His fingertips prickly. “You hated that he was even born.” There’s like a tilt, like his whole world suddenly has stopped making sense. Like this is actually a different dimension forty-five degrees off-kilter. Because Lily _hates_ Harry.

“I don’t hate him,” Lily’s voice is sharp, so very different from her usual cold tone. It’s like she actually possesses emotions. “I was scared of him even then, but I couldn’t very well let him die. He was just a tiny baby.”

Ron didn’t really know what to think of that. He’d been sure that if it was up to Lily Harry would have died at first opportunity, she’d never made it a secret of how she wished he’d never been born. So, for Lily to have actually saved Harry’s life… for her to actually have fought the psycho keeping her kidnapped just to save a tiny, baby Harry… It was baffling. That was truly what it was.

“That’s strange,” was all Ron thought of to say as his brain hurt trying to process the information.

“Mom,” Liam was suddenly speaking, his voice small and unsure. “Who is the baby?”

Lily looked down at Liam with kind eyes. “Harry was honey,” was all she said. “Harry was once a baby.”

The boy frowned even as his mouth forming itself into a small smile. “Harry’s big,” he objected. His hands gesturing hesitantly. “Tall.”

“That’s right honey,” Lily stroked Liam’s cheek softly. “But someday you might be just as big. You’re going to grow to be a big boy.”

Liam just stared at his mother for a beat, then nodded gravely, like he’d decided he believed her.

Lily turned to Ron again, her eyes a bit softer. “He’s curious,” was all she said. “A bit like Harry when he was small I suppose.”

Ron felt jarred, his brain hurting all the more. “Why are you letting him spend time with Harry? When Dana was born-”

“I know,” Lily interrupted hastily, her voice tired. “I know I kept Dana away from Harry, a mistake I’m not doing again.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Ron got out, keeping his voice from turning into a scream by his fingertips. “Has he done anything to you? Are you compelled-”

“Ron _Wesley_ ,” Lily’s eyes were narrowing, the air around her turning frosty. Even Liam stared at his mother with a surprised face, like he hadn’t seen her angry before. Ron couldn’t help but swallow nervously.

She sure was terrifying, Lily.

“I managed to kill the last one who tried to control me with his voice. Do you believe for a single second that I would allow Harry to put me underneath his control for any longer period of time?” She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming dangerously. “I know better than anyone how the voice works, how it controls people. And I would find a sure way to end him if he ever went dark. And I’m talking about truly dark.”

Ron’s eyes were widened slightly. It felt like maybe the world made a bit more sense. “You’ve been preparing,” was all he got out on the first try. He swallowed, trying to coat his dry throat with moist. “You would kill him if he started to misuse his powers?”

“I saved him once,” Lily leaned back, eyes flickering to Liam who stared between the two of them, eyebrows furrowed slightly. “I carried him into this world. I’m the one who must take responsibility, it’s…” she drifted off for a moment, looking almost sad. “It’s my duty.”

“Is that why you stayed away? Is that why you acted like you hated him?” It still doesn’t make sense, not quite.

“Ron…” Lily sounded tired, like perhaps she really was around fifty, a woman halfway through her life. “He reminds me of him, how could I possibly ever feel anything but unease and fear for Harry? Especially when he has His voice. But that doesn’t mean Harry’s evil, rather, it means that I know for a fact that he’s not.”

Ron chewed on his lower lip, hands knitted tightly together. She made sense was the worst part. Lily made perfect sense. She would know, she’d been living under commands for ten years and she’d managed to kill her kidnapper despite that. And that would mean that perhaps Harry had been lost for a while, but it also meant that he was still Harry, still an awkward hero trying to do the best he could with what he had. And Ron had stayed away for far too long because of a notion, a false one.

Lily was still looking at him, her eyes a bit softer as Ron felt his eyes turn wet.

Had he really fucked up? Not only himself but Hermione as well. She’d stayed away because he’d asked her, she’d looked so sad for so long, all because of him.

“Harry and Liam get along well,” Lily continued. “Harry works at a hospital, helping people. I’m still terrified of him of course but both Liam and Dana adores him.”

Ron couldn’t help the tears as they spilled over, a small sob escaping through his trembling lips. It felt a bit like the world was crashing in, like despite everything Harry had been there all along and now… now it might even be too late. Harry might never want to see him again.

What had he done?

Lily looked at him with knowing eyes, as if she knew exactly what was tearing him apart. “Call him.” Lily confirmed her ability to see right through him as she got up with Liam in hand. “Do some grovelling, ask for forgiveness. He’ll take you back.”

“You don’t understand.” Ron felt himself fall despite sitting down, despite having the perfect balance with both feet on the ground. “I’ve lied to him and I’ve avoided him. They don’t even call us anymore, didn’t even invite us for Christmas last year.”

“Grovelling Ron,” was all Lily said. “Focus on Draco, Harry doesn’t care enough about himself to be mad at you, but that blonde dragon of his sure does.”

Lily looked fond. Her mouth twitching upwards even as she got out of the living room. Ron followed on heavy legs, tears still pouring silently despite how he furiously tried to wipe them away.

“He misses you,” was all she said. “He’s done mistakes, but he’s making up for it by working at that hospital. Try to remember that.”

Liam got help getting on his jacket and tying his shoes, his fumbling fingers adorable as he grabbed onto Lily.

“You should talk to him,” was all Ron said. “I think he would like that.”

But Lily was shaking her head even as she finished getting Liam into his shoes, straightening up and wrapping her own coat around slim shoulders. “I can never be anything but cold towards him. I know him, and I truly believe he would never hurt anyone and still…” she drifted off. “…It’s in my soul,” was what she settled on. “Fear, hate. And it’s because of Him, Harry’s biological father, the bane of my existence in a way.” She opened the door, bending down to pick up Liam, resting him against her hip. Liam grabbed onto her shoulder, his green eyes and raven hair still such a stark reminder of Harry it was almost scary. “That man who on a hunch told me to come with him home took away ten years of my life. And maybe I could have lived with that if not for the fact that he did something worse. He also took away my firstborn son.”

They didn’t say much more after that. Lily bided her goodbyes with a small wave, her eyes a bit shiny. Liam waved as well, his eyes curious as he looked at Ron, a stranger.

Ron opened a bottle of whiskey the second the door has closed and then proceeded to get himself shitfaced. Everything was goddamn awful and despite Seamus’ shaky mobile video of Harry talking to some soldier in that familiar dark voice of his Harry was _good_. He was whole and solid and Ron missed him. He missed him so much it hurt.

When Hermione got home two hours later she was worried of course. She wasn’t used to seeing her boyfriend on the wrong side of pissed with an empty bottle of whiskey in his hand, alone.

“Oh Ron,” she sounded somewhere between upset and sad. “Darling what are you doing to yourself?”

“You don’t understand,” was all Ron stuttered, his tongue thick and clumsy in his mouth. The world was swimming, like someone had spilled a glass of water on a freshly painted picture. At least the tearing inside his chest had stopped, or maybe just been numbed. “Harry… Harry…” He didn’t know what else to say.

But Hermione was apparently fluent in Ron-mumbling because suddenly she was down on her knees, hugging Ron around his neck, her hair smelling of the sea and her warmth soothing like nothing else. “Oh Ron,” she said again, her voice wet. “Finally.”

“What?” Ron’s thoughts were moving through syrup and what was _finally_? And why did Hermione looked ready to cry?

“I talked to Draco just yesterday,” Hermione whispered wetly into his ear. “There’s a dinner at Grimlund this Friday, we’re invited.”

“I- I thought they didn’t call us… That they didn’t invite us anymore.” Ron’s head is spinning.

“Of course they do stupid. I- I just didn’t see the point in telling you.”

“I’m so fucking stupid ‘Mione. So, fucking, stupid,” Ron couldn’t suppress the sob that broke through as he hugged Hermione closer. He’d been hurting for years, hurting others for years, he- he shouldn’t have doubted. He should have just talked to Harry. He shouldn’t have met up with Seamus, not without talking to Harry afterward.

“It’s okay,” Hermione said softly. “You’re alright love, you’re alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it sure was a while ago!
> 
> For starters! I don’t know why I always take this long with updating stories. But here you have it anyhow! An update. I don’t know how many of you who’re still invested in this journey, but if some are still out there I praise you for sticking with it for so long! I will definitely try to get the next (and maybe last) update of this story out quicker. 
> 
> (For now, I’ve planned this story to go on until Harry’s 30 years old.)
> 
> Second, I don’t know if I’m bad, good or weird when it comes to writing smut. But here you have it, hopefully it wasn’t too strange, with some luck you even sort of liked it x) I also changed the rating accordingly!
> 
> Third, I had apparently missed posting “11 years old” (lol nobody noticed (or double lol if you did and just felt too bad for me to mention it xD)), but now I’ve updated chapter 2 to include it if you want to check it out ;)
> 
> Forth…? Is there a forth? I think I’ve gotten everything that I wanted to say said… Oh yeah, now I remember! I just wanted to say that all of you reading this are according to me pretty darn cool <3
> 
> Anyhow, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Until next time, stay awesome! :D


	10. Blissful oblivion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings are found in the tags. Might be some misspellings since English isn't my mother language; feel free to comment if you find any ghastly ones. This fic is set in an alternative universe. Enjoy.

– 27 years old –

“Sure Ron,” Harry said into his phone, glancing over to where Cho sat mindlessly scribbling on some papers. Harry looked handsome leaning against the counter, his tall frame quite stunning, as always. Cho could get lost looking at Harry, utterly and helplessly lost.

She looked down at her notes as Harry gave her a quick smile, mouthing _Soon done_ , before once again concentrating on the phone call.

“Yeah dinner sounds nice- No, I’m not going to help Liam draw on things with a sharpie. Ron- Hey! That was one time!”

Cho couldn’t help but snort. Harry glanced over towards her again, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Yeah whatever looser,” he mumbled into the phone. “Gotta go, I’m actually working you know.”

He muttered a quick goodbye, hanging up before returning to the table, settling down opposite to Cho and sipping on his cooling coffee.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered, eyes fond as he placed his phone on the table face down. “There’s just this big family dinner thing we have every Friday.”

“Ron’s your brother?” Cho couldn’t help but ask. She didn’t know Harry all that well seeing as this was her second week working here. But she and Harry had hit it off after a long and tiring night with three different stabbings arriving just minutes after one another. Cho had all of a sudden been handling the task of keeping the boys alive while doctors were called. That had been her first night here.

Thank god Harry had been there. Taking one look at her panicked face and told her with that special voice of his to _calm down_. It had been a blessing, truly. All the boys had survived and well, Harry had become a friend.

He was pretty famous of course, there wasn’t everyday someone with the power to hypnotise people came along. Or maybe they called it something else? Some nurses had whispered about powers, something out of the ordinary. But Cho didn’t know about that. Harry had a presence see, it wouldn’t be strange for people to get affected by him. God knows she had. Perhaps even a bit _too_ much than what was entirely appropriate.

“Nah,” Harry said, his green eyes close to glowing as he seemed to think about this Ron fellow. “I guess you could say he’s my best friend.”

Cho was helpless to do much else than smile at that, Harry just looked so happy. “Best friend huh? That’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Harry shook his head, smile still there, still lightning up his features that at times appeared almost grave. “It really, really is.”

“So, dinner with the family then?” Cho couldn’t help but dwell a second too long on Harry’s sharp cheekbones as he took another sip. The hollowing of his cheeks was close to sinful. She felt her stomach do little loops as Harry smiled at her again.

“Yes, and some running of course, got to keep up with all that dinner.”

Cho just raised an eyebrow, her eyes traveling over Harry’s fit body where he sat lounging in the chair opposite of her. “You sure about that? Doesn’t look like that dinner has a chance to me.”

Harry just raised an eyebrow. “Why if I didn’t know better Choie I would say that was a compliment.”

“Don’t call me Choie,” she returned in a stern voice, lips curling. “It’s unbecoming of you.”

“Unbecoming,” Harry mocked, raising a dark eyebrow. “Perhaps I should call thee Lady Choie?”

“You’re a menace,” Cho bit out, her hand shooting forward to smacking Harry lightly on his forearm where it laid big and heavy on the table. “No wonder Ron was complaining about some sort of sharpie accident.”

Harry turned red. “Oh,” he seemed rather embarrassed. “You heard that did you?”

Cho just snorted as she got up from their table, their break was as good as over anyhow. “Please Harry Potter,” she squeezed his shoulder a beat too long as she passed by, “Don’t you think you can fool little ol’ me.”

Harry stared at her hand as she moved it away from him, his eyebrows furrowed for a second. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he sounded distracted.

Cho put her cup in the dishwasher, briefly looking at the sign reading “Your mother doesn’t work here,” before noticing Harry’s looming figure right behind her.

“Want me to put it in the dishwasher?” She asked, making sure to almost stumble into him as she turned around. He grabbed hold of her arm as she braced herself against a firm chest to “regain her balance.” Perhaps she was a bit too obvious but Harry was just so nice and fit. Who could blame her really?

“It’s fine,” Harry still sounded distracted, easily maneuvering her away from the dishwasher. Cho’s heart fluttered as a big hand landed on her lower back, pushing firmly. God, he really was big; big everywhere it seemed.

“Oh, okay,” Cho couldn’t help but sound breathless. “Are you with Doctor Andersen today as well?” She lingered close to Harry, brushing her petite shoulder against his arm. Her head only just reached to his shoulders. “I am as well.”

“Yeah, at least for a little bit,” Harry nodded, stepping away from Cho and leaving her side a bit cold. She wanted to pout but thought better of it, it wouldn’t do to be _way_ too obvious. Even though it felt like it could be more between them, they got on so well after all. “I think I only need to be there at the beginning of the operation.”

“Yeah, and at the end when he needs to wake. Luckily we have you.” Cho squeezed Harry’s shoulder again, stepping in close and stretching to reach. Harry didn’t seem to mind, but he didn’t quite encourage it either.

“Yeah.”

They went together to the designated room, both of them laughing and Cho making sure to press close every now and again. Her heart was fluttering constantly as she took in Harry’s heavy scent, the way his face looked sculptured in a certain light and his raven hair… Harry was simply gorgeous and not only that but he was kind as well.

Cho couldn’t help but let the small crush she’d had since she first laid eyes on this friendly giant grow. He was just so handsome, so perfect. She shuddered as she imagined those big hands on other parts of her body, they would envelop her completely.

She kept thinking about it even as they went to work. Harry did indeed leave the operating room after putting down Mr. Brown and Cho found herself pouting as another nurse came to direct him to somewhere else. But Harry’s time was precious, he could, after all, do what nobody else could. Hypnotising. Or magic, another part of her brain whispered.

She didn’t know the proper term for it. Suspected nobody did.

The operation went well and Harry returned after all was over and done with to wake Mr. Brown from his slumber. And what do you know, then it was time for the next afternoon break – or rather night break (the clock was fairly late).

Harry seemed a bit tired and Cho had to admit she was tired as well. There were still three hours until her shift would come to an end and she could always blame fatigue as she stumbled into Harry on several occasions.

“Rough afternoon?” Harry muttered as he steadied her once again. He left his hand there, on her arm. Cho sighed happily.

“A bit. I always forget how much time some operations take. It’s like I’ll never learn.”

“You’ve only been here for two weeks,” Harry muttered as he stretched over her head to grab hold of two cups. Cho felt Harry press up against all of her back, his body close to engulfing her as she pressed back into warm firmness. There were butterflies in her stomach and a burn, an impossible burn, between her thighs. She really had to be quite drowsy to feel turned on here, in the hospital breakroom of all places.

“Still,” Cho might be breathless, at least a little bit. She forced her legs to not fold even as Harry’s arm withdrew from the overhead locker, his chest still pressed into her back. “It’s rough, hours in the same room, praying for this man to please make it through.”

Harry hummed, stepping back, his step a bit wobbly. “I can imagine.”

Cho grabbed hold of Harry’s arm as he stumbled again, cups in hand.

“Christ,” he muttered, eyes blinking slowly. “This is way past my bedtime.”

Cho knew all too well that Harry’s hours were a nightmare, he’d already been here for five hours when she got into work at ten. And now it was late, like dark outside late. She cooed in agreement as she helped Harry to a chair.

He collapsed into it gratefully.

“I’ll get you some coffee hun,” she muttered, not able to resist ruffling Harry’s hair as she grabbed hold of the cups and made her way to the coffee machine. It was empty in the break room save for the two of them and with Harry close to asleep in his chair, Cho could stare at his broad back unashamedly.

She should ask him to dinner. They could go down to that place at the corner of Banner street and then Harry could walk her home. They could stumble together, slightly drunk before getting to her door, giggling and happy. She’d kiss him of course, allow him to press her up against the door and perhaps even allow his hands to wander. If he truly insisted on a nightcap she wouldn’t object to that either. Not even if nightcap meant stumbling into bed, his broad body easily hiding hers as they tangled together-

“Cho?”

Cho felt herself flush as she realised she’d just stood there, staring at Harry. Harry that right now was looking back, a small frown on his face.

“You alright?” He sounded concerned and slightly suspicious. Yikes.

Cho immediately smiled at him, her shoulders shrugging casually. “Just that tiredness getting to me.”

Harry nodded slowly. “My shifts end now but perhaps _you_ should think about taking a nap? Just to be sure.”

Cho didn’t really feel like it, but she knew better than to attempt saving lives dead on her feet. “Yeah,” Cho was back at the table, easily handing over Harry’s cup, their hands brushing slightly. “I guess better safe than sorry.”

“True,” Harry smiled faintly at her, his lips wrapping around the rim of the cup. His cheekbones really emerged when he hollowed his cheeks like that. Cho found herself sitting in the chair next to Harry’s, leaning in closer.

“I’ve been thinking,” she started, making sure to puff out her chest and look up from beneath long eyelashes.

Harry looked at her, his smile gone and his face a bit guarded. “Yeah?” He sounded cold all of a sudden. Cho couldn’t help how a twinge of nervousness erupted from within. Was she too confident? Perhaps Harry wouldn’t be interested in her at all? She hadn’t had any troubles getting whomever she had wanted before but nobody had been like Harry. Tall and kind, fit and funny. Nobody had had half the hospital lusting after them before, nurses flustered by the mere sight of Harry. Cho was just a nurse like many others, but she knew she was pretty, knew she was whip clever. She could win Harry, she could.

She placed a hand on Harry’s forearm, her fingers playing lightly over warm skin, a small scar being the only thing marring the perfect bronze surface. Harry did have scars, one through his right eyebrow and another one grazing his jaw. He certainly had more underneath his clothes and she wanted to see them, wanted to ask about them…

Cho leaned closer, too close to be anything but purposeful.

“What do you say about dinner, me and you?”

Harry seemed frozen where he sat beside her, his eyes hard and face neutral.

“I’ll make it worth your while?” Cho scratched at the skin underneath her fingertips, moving them slowly in small circles, rubbing.

“His answer is no.”

There was this voice coming from the door, the tone dry and cutting and perhaps a bit amused. Cho felt blood rush to her cheeks even as she turned around and scouted back a bit from where Harry was sitting.

“Who-” her composure was all but gone with the wind.

There was a brat standing there. And a brat was the right word because he looked the part. Fair and lean with shoulder-long hair falling in a blonde wave. He wore slacks and a slightly opened shirt. His face was a mask of amusement mixed with something dark and possessive. Despite it all he did look quite pretty, almost royal with the way he held himself, Cho had never seen him here before. And she would remember if she had.

“Excuse me, this is for staff only-” she began, feeling her feet land solidly on the ground as she puffed out her chest. She was in the right, she knew it.

Or thought she knew it until Harry got up beside her, voice a bit wrecked as it breathed out “Draco?”

The man in front of them, this Draco apparently, didn’t move to get closer. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest, smile in place even as he voiced a lustreless “Surprise!” Nobody answered the pointed exclamation. “Thought I would come to surprise you,” Draco offered after one too many beats of silence. “But looks like I perhaps interrupted something?”

Harry didn’t even glance in Cho’s direction as he began striding forward. He looked different than before, playfulness gone and something else, almost predatory in place. Draco didn’t look concern despite how Cho felt herself hesitate where she stood, unsure of what was going on and if Draco was in trouble. It was strange, seconds ago she hadn’t thought Harry able to hurt a fly, but now she wasn’t so sure.

“Harry,” she tried even as he easily invaded Draco’s space.

“Surprise me?” Harry’s voice was a dark rumble and his hands were clenching and unclenching. Like he wanted to grab onto something, or maybe tear into _someone_. Cho found herself watching the scene with morbid fascination, still hesitant about what was happening.

“It would be a nice change of pace not to stumble into my fiancé being chatted up by strangers. Maybe you should start wearing your goddamn ring?”

Cho’s head spun. God, was Harry engaged? Shit. She felt small, and a bit humiliated and also a bit goddamn flabbergasted. Because Harry was engaged to this blonde man who seemed to aggravate him just by his presence. That didn’t make any sense.

But then Cho looked closer as one of Harry’s hands shot forward, wrapping tightly around Draco’s slim arm. Perhaps he wasn’t aggravated, perhaps he was possessive. Judging by the way Harry’s body blocked Draco’s like he wanted to shield him from view confirmed that yes, Harry Potter was one possessive bastard.

Cho still felt the sharp sting of rejection, of a hope being horrible crushed without mercy. Harry was engaged.

_Christ_.

“Not now,” Draco easily pushed Harry aside, Harry moved without resisting. And he would so easily be able to resist, Harry was giant and muscular and this blonde man was everything but. Draco’s eyes locked onto Cho, his eyes gleaming a dangerous silver as he walked past Harry, swaggering forward like he owned the place.

Cho felt embarrassment drown her as her cheeks reddened and her eyes flickered. She’d messed up, Christ, she was pathetic.

“Listen,” Cho began, trying to appease Draco as he neared with frightening speed. Would he slap her?

Instead Draco held out his hand. “Draco Malfoy,” he smirked and Cho wondered if she were being mocked or if this was something else. “Harry’s fiancé.”

Nope definitely mocked.

Still, Cho did have some pride. She extended her hand and gripped Draco’s slender one with force. The answering grip was just as strong, Draco’s smug smile firmly in place. “Cho Chang,” she easily offered. “Nurse and friend of Harry’s.”

“Yes,” Draco turned slightly, his eyes locking onto Harry. “Rude of you Harry,” he bit out. “Not to introduce me to your _friend_.”

Harry actually looked at Cho apologetic, heaving out a small sigh. “Cho,” he began. “Meet Draco. Annoying but cute at times.” He stepped forward and placed his hands on Draco’s hips, possessiveness contradicting with how he rolled his eyes.

It was actually a bit adorable. Still painful, but perhaps painfully sweet?

“Right,” Cho met Harry’s green eyes, remembering how she’d practically thrown herself on him the past week or so. Right. “I suppose I should apologise-”

“Yeah perhaps asking if someone is available-” Draco begun, not meanly but definitely pointed. Then Harry placed one of his large hands on Draco’s mouth, effectively cutting of any sound from the blonde. Draco let out an outrageous – but muffled – cry.

“Sorry,” Harry sounded genuinely sorry. “I should have made it clear about Draco earlier, I just wasn’t sure if you were just friendly or-”

“Flirting,” Cho winced even as she mumbled the word. She self-consciously put a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

Draco dragged Harry’s hand away from his mouth using both of his. Even then Cho was pretty sure that the only reason he’d succeeded was because that Harry had let him. Cho could guess – after not even five minutes of watching them interact – that Harry was plenty whipped. Draco seemed like one of those upper-class brats that always got his way, but despite that she couldn’t quite find it within herself to dislike him. He just seemed a bit too harmless in the way he acted, like an angry cat.

“About the flirting,” Draco continued like he just hadn’t been silenced by his apparent fiancé. “It was pretty good,” he conceded, acting like his approval should be met with graciousness. It was all pretty hilarious.

“Not that Harry seemed to notice,” Cho couldn’t help but mumble, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips.

“Well,” Draco smirked up at Harry. “Harry is an idiot.”

The bark of laughter Cho let out was not lady like in the slightest, quite the opposite really. Draco looked gleeful while Harry only looked resigned.

“Perhaps,” Cho chuckled, that odd pain she’d felt only moments ago gone. Draco was quite entertaining, Cho could definitely see why Harry chose to keep him around.

Draco’s eyes suddenly lit up. “You know,” his mouth stretched slowly into a smile. “I have this friend called Blaise, and I promise you he’s not as thick as Harry here-”

“Draco? Really?” Harry tightened his grip around Draco’s middle despite the heavy sigh.

Cho was invested in this alright. She ignored Harry’s protest and leaned forward, already swept up in the storm that was Draco Malfoy. “Do tell,” for some reason she trusted Draco, he was clearly well versed in the ins and outs of society, in all probability a social butterfly unlike any she’d yet to witness. It was just something about the air around him, the way he talked to people like they ought to bow before him.

“Oh, I’ll tell you alright,” Draco smacked Harry’s hand a bit, making the man behind him loosen the tight hold of his waist so he could meet Cho. Stepping forward, correction, swaggering forward a couple of steps.

Cho laughed again even as Harry sighed heavily, Draco’s eyes sparkling with mischief. She should be really upset probably, and yet, she wasn’t.

She really, really wasn’t.

“Come here child,” Draco smiled and for a moment he looked a bit dorky. Less like a brat and more like someone Cho would like to get friendly with. A fellow drama queen. Naturally she stepped closer.

“See,” Harry muttered to nobody. “This is why I didn’t bring her to Friday dinner.”

Draco easily ignored Harry, instead opting to link arms with Cho, stepping out of Harry’s hold. Harry might have let out a small growl, but it was hard to tell, especially since Draco had started talking in that slow drawl of his.

“Now, Blaise has been looking for someone like you. I would know, we’ve been friends since we were slobbering babies. Or rather he was a slobbering baby…”

It was fun talking to Draco and Harry gave up after a couple of minutes of being totally excluded from the conversation.

“I’ll just wait in the car?” He pouted, getting ignored again. Cho almost felt sorry for him.

“No, my break is over anyhow-“

“Yes dear,” Draco called out, turning around and smirking towards Harry. “I’ll be right out.”

Harry looked a bit hesitant, like perhaps he didn’t want to leave without Draco despite him threatening to do so. But after Draco muttered a “go on then,” he did. Slowly. Lingering.

Cho was a bit surprised how Draco went from friendly and gossiping to serious the very second the door closed behind Harry.

“Listen-” And he didn’t sound like a brat all of a sudden. He sounded like a very deadly viper. “I have to beat off people with a stick when it comes to Harry at the best of days, so I’m just going to tell you this now…”

Draco looked so serious, his eyes razor sharp and Cho shivered. Her brain had a hard time catching up because they were still linking arms and just a second ago Draco had been warm, friendly. Now on the other hand; her breath escaped in clouds, air cold.

“Harry is mine.”

Cho nodded, because what else could she do?

Draco was still looking at her like he contemplated poisoning her in her sleep. “You have no idea,” his gaze didn’t waver, “what I’ve gone through to get him.”

Cho just nodded shakily. “Sure,” was all she managed to get out, her voice trembling. “He’s engaged to you. I’m no homewrecker.”

Draco backed off an inch or two, eyes sweeping over her frame like a scanning beam at an airport. “No...” Some of the frost disappeared from his posture. “I guess you aren’t.”

Then he smiled, the gesture so at odds with his previous behaviour that Cho felt more intimidated than reassured. She really wanted to unlink her arm with his.

“But I didn’t lie about Blaise.” Draco clapped her lightly on the shoulder, finally unlinking their arms. Cho kept her arm close, almost surprised that she hadn’t been maimed in the process. “Next Friday dinner, six o’clock, you’ll be there. It’s at 12 Grimmauld Place.”

Cho only nodded, afraid to do much else.

“Good,” Draco smiled again, a lazy smirk that didn’t fool Cho for a second. “Then it’s settled.”

_Settled indeed_ , Cho couldn’t help but think as she watched Draco waltz out from the breakroom. It was entirely possible that it was _impossible_ to say no to Draco. She shuddered. She would back off from Harry.

She didn’t even dare entertain the thought not to.

 

– 28 years old –

Remus practiced a smile despite how he felt achingly empty. Sirius was standing next to Mary McDonald with a genuine grin, his eyes meeting hers and lingering far too many beats for it not to be nauseating. Remus averted his eyes, heart dying inside of his fragile ribcage even as he tried to put up a strong front.

He wasn’t very sure he succeeded.

Remus would do anything to stop breathing, to just seize to exist. He knew this would happen, had always known it, but he’d figured he would be better prepared when that time arrived. He was a logical person who by now should be able to separate feelings from reality, from undeniably facts. And yet…

Mary kissed Sirius softly on his cheek. Thereafter pulling back and swatting him gently on the shoulder as he waggled his eyebrows her way, fingers rubbing softly on the side of her waist. They were just standing so close. Sirius gravitating towards her as easy as the earth around the sun. Because Mary was Sirius’ sun. Beautiful Mary with her brave ways and warm presence. Dana liked her, James liked her, Draco liked her… hell, even Harry smiled and chatted with her like nothing was amiss. Like this was perfectly normal.

Remus hated Mary McDonald something furiously. It even scared him at times, the wave of hate that was close to a dark abyss of eternal night. Sometimes he dreamed of watching her disappear in the dark void. Of her being buried, far away from Sirius dimpled smile and loud laughter.

Sometimes Remus wanted to be the one buried. The one never returning to this harsh reality. It was like razors, cutting him so swiftly he wouldn’t notice as first. Would only stand there for a beat before the pain washed over him, harsh and crippling.

 Remus kept cutting onions. At least that would allow him to blame his blank eyes on something else than a broken heart. His trembling lips, on the other hand, his uneven breaths, well… he just hoped nobody would notice.

“Hello Remus,” Ron was there, smiling carefully and with his hands visible, like he wanted to make sure Remus knew he came unharmed.

Remus forced his lips to form something akin to a smile. But he didn’t bother too much, Ron was the one who knew it all, the only one not in awe of Mary bloody McDonalds with her rosy cheeks and cute appearance. Remus knew that Ron only stayed indifferent towards her because he knew of Remus’ wasted heart. But despite that knowledge it still helped. It helped so incredibly much that Remus had already forgiven Ron for just about everything.

For doubting Harry. For coming stumbling back, throwing himself into Harry’s arms while at the same time insisting on reassurance, on a promise.

“ _If you ever say ‘Gryffindor’ you will always **be yourself**. No COMs can ever affect that_.”

It had worked of course. And Harry had insisted that everyone he knew picked a word. Any word would do, as long as they remembered it.

Sure, it wasn’t waterproof, Harry could just tell them to shut up and they would be quite helpless, but it was something. And Harry had been breathing easier, been enjoying himself more. His grim appearance being replaced by something else, something close to vibrant and alive.

Remus might have started to feel grateful towards Ron of late. Because of how Harry glowed nowadays, and… and how he, Remus, didn’t have to pretend to be fine, not always. Not in front of Ron.

“Hello Ron,” Remus kept cutting the onion. It would be done soon and he’d have to move on to other things, like preparing the mincemeat sauce.

Ron leaned against the bench next to him, drinking from the glass of water in his hand. He would be the one driving tonight, Hermione already halfway to blasted where she sat beside Ginny on the couch, a glass of wine clutched in her hand. Ron didn’t seem to mind. He was just happy, as everybody else, everybody else except Remus.

Because Remus was still falling apart.

“Are you okay?” Ron asked carefully.

“I’m fine,” Remus’ hands shook as he tried not to think, just tried to get the stupid pasta water going (and this time without him being clumsy and fucking pathetic please).

“Remus, hey. Let me help you with that-”

“Ron,” Remus kept hold of the knife with which he’d been cutting onions, shaking his head as Ron tried to take it away from him. “I got it okay? I really just want to cook this fucking dinner.”

But of course, Ron had to make a big deal out of it. “But I can help. I want to help-”

“It’s fine. Please. Just drop it,” Remus blinked quickly, hoping a miracle would stop the tears in his eyes from falling.

Ron stood close, his brown eyes still troubled, still sad. “I only want to help.”

“You do help,” Remus assured him even as he shakily allowed the chopped onion to fall into the frying pan. His hands just shook really badly.

He looked up from the sizzling onion pieces, spotting Mary standing next to Sirius talking to Harry. It looked like a perfect picture, Mary with Sirius’ arm around her shoulders talking happily with Harry.

The image burned and blurred even as Remus took a deep breath. Harry was _his_ and Sirius’, she would never have him. Couldn’t have him. God.

“Remus,” Ron sounded worried as he quickly took hold of Remus shaking frame. “Mate?”

And Remus crumpled; because he was so, so scared but most of all was he drowning in regret. Because he’d been the one standing next to Sirius okay? For a few glorious years, he’d been on the receiving end of cuddles, dimpled smiles, and that warm look. The same look Sirius was directing towards Mary, like she was all of his world.

And it should be natural to expect that Remus wouldn’t be that anymore. He and Sirius were, after all, nothing more than friends. Good friends, friends who once had shared a drunk kiss during new year so many years ago.

Remus had just for some reason not noticed himself believing there could be more. Had not noticed how his hopes and dreams had become something close to tangible before it was too late. He’d perhaps even believed deep down that Sirius would return now that Harry was home, now that everything was right with the world.

But of course he wouldn’t. Sirius didn’t love Remus.

Ron was patting Remus’ head even as he found himself finally not caring about the damn food. Even as he hung onto Ron’s thin but tall frame, muffling small sobs into a cotton shirt and warm shoulder Ron was dragging him away from everybody.

Ron called someone, perhaps Lily of all people, to take over preparing dinner. Then Remus was gone from the large room. The same room in which he’d cooked for Harry and Sirius. Cooked for his Pads.

“It’s not fair,” Remus cried into Ron’s shoulder. They’re in a small side room, not much more than a couch and a few bookshelves in here.

Ron maneuvered them both to the couch. “Hush,” he whispered as he held Remus close as he cried. His heart ached and he cried, but he did it quietly.

Remus tried to gather himself repeatedly despite how he knew this was a losing battle. Despite how he knew he would be useless the rest of the evening. Because he couldn’t do this. He’d thought that he could but he couldn’t.

Mary bloody McDonald. How he _hated_ her.

He couldn’t figure out how Harry had done it all those years. Stood by while Draco and Astoria had been kissing, been laughing together and holding hands. But then again, perhaps Harry had managed to keep his hopes low, perhaps he hadn’t been stupid enough to wait for something that wouldn’t happen.

And then Harry had gone to war and after returning he’d had his Draco. What a fairy-tale fucking ending.

“I can’t do this Ron,” Remus sobbed into Ron’s shoulder, his body trembling and his thoughts wet and heavy. There were hateful words simmering inside of him, but there was also hurt, incredibly hurt. Almost like someone had died. Or something.

Yes. Something had died.

And perhaps that something had been a tomorrow. A tomorrow, now buried six feet under, never to resurface.

“I’m here Rem,” Ron promised. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“He’s getting married,” Remus bit out, desperately wishing for Ron to deny the words, to just tell him that Sirius wasn’t getting fucking married in two months because apparently they: ‘ _couldn’t wait_ ’.

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_!

“I know,” Ron breathed against his ear like a traitor. He should have told Remus it wasn’t true. How hard was it to do that?!

Not that it would change anything. But perhaps – for just a few seconds – Remus would be confused enough to believe that he’d missed something. That he perhaps just had had a really, really bad dream.

“I know Rem,” Ron just whispered again, arms going around Remus and tightening. “But you’re strong,” he continued, voice firm even as Remus let out another shuddering sob. “We’re going to get through this.”

Remus didn’t know what to say to that. So he didn’t. Instead, he kept trying to fucking process that Sirius Black was going to get married and have a family. A family involving a beautiful wife and kids of his own. And Remus would still be stuck here. Here at Grimmauld Place with rooms reminding him every goddamn day of the past. The past where he’d had over a decade of happiness. A decade of Harry and Sirius running around.

He should settle for that.

But instead of settling his heart wanted to burst. Instead of settling, here he was, crying in Ron Weasley’s arms.

The darkness inside of him seemed to expand as he thought about the wedding. He’d gotten an invitation of course. Just like the rest of them. Despite that Sirius and Mary had gotten engaged less than three months ago they still wanted to get married as fast as possible. Married before the summer.

During dark days Remus suspected that it was because of Mary being pregnant. Of her carrying Sirius’ child in her womb. Why else would they rush? Why else would they get married two months after getting engaged? The letter had come as a punch straight to Remus’ solar plexus. He’d doubled over, heaving.

A bit like right now.

Lily was probably cooking the dinner in the next room. Remus hated how he was like this, how he was shattered. Because during Fridays this empty house was at least full of life for an evening, during Fridays at least he didn’t walk around alone and shivering. For one evening a week it was as it used to be, or at least he could pretend it was.

Because everybody had moved on with their lives. Everyone save Remus.

He didn’t even notice the door opening. He didn’t even notice someone sneaking into the room before the couch sunk down tellingly. Remus tried to tear himself from Ron’s embrace, embarrassed and mortified as his eyes desperately looked for just who’d snuck in.

_Please don’t be Sirius, please._

It wasn’t Sirius. It was Harry.

“Remus?” Harry sounded hesitant, his hands fluttering about as he sat next to Ron, big and overwhelming as usual. “What’s wrong?”

He sounded sad and worried at once, green eyes inquiring and his usually relaxed face tense. His hands were still moving about, like a butterfly who couldn’t decide where to land.

Remus didn’t really want to tell Harry what was wrong. But he _was_ hurting. And he wanted someone to know, wanted someone except Ron to perhaps see what was right in front of him, see Remus falling apart. And it was just not fair. None of this was. Because Sirius was happy. And Remus… Remus was falling apart. Why should he suffer in silence? He shouldn’t.

“I love him,” Remus whispered, voice hoarse and mind screaming at him not to do this. It wouldn’t change anything, wouldn’t somehow make Sirius fall out of love with perfect Mary.

Remus thought he’d once believed himself better than this, believed himself able to let Sirius go once the time came. He held no claim to loud laughter and waggling eyebrows after all. Held no claim to shoulder rubs and large, rough hands. But he wasn’t good. Not good enough to not wail and hate and cry.

It was ugly. Him now, was ugly.

Harry looked at Remus with a somber face. There wasn’t a gasp of surprise or a question about any clarification to just whom Remus loved. Harry just seemed to tense the slightest bit, eyes widening a fraction. Perhaps he wasn’t surprised, perhaps Remus was really, really bad at hiding his feelings. Perhaps everybody knew but nobody said?

“Oh, Rem.” Harry moved closer, easily crowding Remus’ other side so that he was basically sandwiched between Ron and Harry on the couch. It was warm if nothing else, warm and lovely despite the clawing misery inside of him.

“It’s not fair,” Rem whined as he felt Harry’s broad hand in his hair. “And I know it’s stupid. I’m stupid because I knew this would happen… and- and yet…”

“You’re not stupid Rem,” Harry soothed, fingers curling in his locks. “You could never be stupid. You’re one of the smartest, bravest people I know."

“I know I wouldn’t be enough, I should be stronger… Why aren’t I stronger.”

“Rem,” Harry sounded slightly heartbroken, fingers tightening momentarily. It felt good, the firm touch. Grounding. “You’re enough, you hear me? Never believe anything else.”

Remus didn’t answer because he didn’t want to upset Harry. Didn’t want him to know the dark thoughts swirling in Remus’ inner every time he cried himself to sleep. Because this is awful. This life where he was going to stand by Sirius’ side in the church, watch him marry somebody else, someone not him. He was going to watch Sirius have kids, was going to become uncle Moony and play with Sirius and Mary’s children.

And he was going to love them, because despite their ash blonde hair they were going to have grey eyes and call him Moony.

And Remus would continue to cry himself to sleep.

He desperately didn’t want to accept this, desperately wondered if this stabbing pain inside of him would ever subdue when he every goddamn day would be reminded of what he – at least for a couple of years – had had with Sirius.

Life seemed so bleak. So dreadfully bleak.

“Remus,” Ron sounded worried as he pressed closer, in all probability sharing a look with Harry over his bent head. He shouldn’t make them worry, but at the same time, he wasn’t strong right now, wasn’t strong nor calm.

“Harry,” Remus whined because he didn’t want this. Didn’t want to wake up tomorrow and cry for half an hour because his life was over. Because the only human being he’d ever properly loved would barely be in his life anymore. “Can you make me not feel,” Remus was whispering the words. Like maybe if they were said quietly enough Harry wouldn’t think too hard about them, maybe he’d just give Remus this.

Of course, it wasn’t that simple.

But it was tempting. The thought of having all this pain ripped away from him, sealed away like a wound underneath a plaster.

“Remus,” Harry sounded choked, reluctant. His fingers slacked where they were scratching Remus’ scalp.

“Please,” Remus twisted his body so that he was facing Harry, eyes big and imploring. He’d do just about anything not to feel like this. “I can’t do this Harry,” he continued, voice hoarse. “You don’t have to make me forget anything just… just… I’m not getting a happy ending you see. There’s no point with this-” Remus voice broke as his mind whirled. “-with this pain.”

Harry was shaking his head, eyes suspiciously blank. “It’s not right,” he breathed out, the words barely more than air. “Don’t ask me to do this Rem,” he close to begged, large body slumped, defeated. “Please, please, don’t ask me to do this.”

Remus hated this, hated Harry’s broken expression almost as much as he hated Mary McDonald press her forehead against Sirius’, their smile matching and their love so, so obvious. But he couldn’t do this. He’d thought he could, thought he was strong. But he wasn’t. Not strong enough at least. He couldn’t really see a future where things looked bright, where he was going to be doing anything else than hurting.

Because Sirius was it for him. Had always been it.

Even if he wasn’t it for Sirius.

“I’m sorry Harry,” Remus took hold of Harry’s face, kissing him softly on the forehead, his eyes lined with wetness. He looked into emerald green eyes, Lily’s eyes.  “But please, please. I just don’t think I can handle feeling like this for the rest of my life.”

“It won’t be forever. You’re strong Remus, you’ll get over it.” Harry kept trying to reason with him, kept trying to nod his head like Remus would agree automatically. “You’re strong,” his words were a whisper once more.

Remus just looked at Harry. Lovely Harry, the boy Sirius and him had raised together. His hands still framed Harry’s face and how he loved Harry. How he loved Sirius. How he’d loved them during so many years.

His hands were trembling.

“Please,” he begged again, voice a bit firmer. “I want to be able to be his friend. I can’t be that right now. I don’t even know how much longer I’ll be able to be part of his life, this life, with this… this stupid love in the way.”

“Harry, mate,” Ron is quiet as well behind him. His hand resting reassuringly on Remus’ shoulder. “Perhaps-”

“Ron. No,” Harry choked out, closing his eyes. “Don’t ask me to do this!”

“I’m asking you to _do_ this,” Remus said firmly. And despite how he shook like a leaf, while speaking these words his voice was blissfully firm. Remus tightened his hands framing Harry’s face. “I’m not only asking, I’m begging you.”

“You’ve loved him how long? Five years? Ten?”

“Before you came along pup,” Remus answered. Thinking back at that one time when they’d been young and stupid and drunk. When they’d kissed briefly. He thought that was when he’d started to believe that maybe… just maybe he would be able to have Sirius ‘Padfoot’ Black.

Maybe it had been better if that kiss hadn’t happened?

“But I can’t love him anymore,” Remus continued, still insistent because he knew, deep down, that Harry was going to do this for him. Harry was going to take away the pain. This pointless pain. “It wouldn’t lead to any good. This wasted love.”

“Please Remus…”

“No,” he was unrelenting because this was going to happen. This love making him feel heavy as lead was going to be locked away and forgotten. And it was for the best. “This is for the best. You know that Harry.”

And Harry knew.

And Harry nodded. “Tomorrow,” he begged though. “Just think about this until tomorrow.”

And Remus, for the first time in months, looked forward to a tomorrow where he wasn’t going to wake up just to cry. Just to hurt. Just to look forward to falling asleep again.

A tomorrow where perhaps, he could start to live again.

“Tomorrow,” he breathed. And it sort of felt like the first breath he had been able to take for a really, really long time. “Tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hope everything's fine, I'm releasing this way too late and is maybe falling asleep over my desktop… 
> 
> One more chapter to go (maybe two if it starts to get super looooong).
> 
> Anyhow, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Until next time, stay awesome! :D


	11. Like water through your fingers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings are found in the tags. Might be some misspellings since English isn't my mother language; feel free to comment if you find any ghastly ones. This fic is set in an alternative universe. Enjoy.

– 29 years old –

The nightclub was full of people. Draco was hanging back at the bar, sipping a glass of something called “Detoxed toxins,” a stupid name if you ask him. But the drink was alright, sweet and sharp and easily going down his throat. Harry was on the dancefloor with Blaise, Pansy and Cho. They all seemed to have fun as they moved to the loud music, Harry’s body was surprisingly graceful despite his size.

It had been a good decision to go out. Draco knew Harry’s thoughts had been somewhere in the gutter since Sirius’ son Leo had been born. Problem was that he didn’t know why. Because Harry adored Leo, smiled at him and carried him around on his sturdy shoulders every time they met. But still… Harry had been sad. He hadn’t said why and Draco wasn’t sure.

But right now Harry didn’t look sad or upset. He didn’t disappear to Grimmauld Place to brood to think or whatever it was he did... But… Perhaps Harry wanted children?

It was a strange and sudden thought. Draco’s stomach tightened as he watched Harry move with Pansy, twirling her with a laugh easily drowned out by the pounding music.

Perhaps that was why he’d been strange? It wasn’t like he’d become distant, but there was something. Something almost melancholic.

Draco would have no problem with having children. He’d do pretty much anything for Harry and despite him being completely fine with not having kids he wouldn’t mind. If it would make Harry happy he’d gladly sign any paper, visit any remote country… whatever it took.

He took another sip, the liquid burning down his throat. It was worth thinking about. They should probably talk about it, tomorrow, when they were sober and could discuss it rationally.

Still, Draco couldn’t stop his mind from running about, thinking about where they might be able to adopt? If Harry would want a son or a daughter? Both? How many kids were they talking about?

“Hi Draco.” Seamus came up beside him, holding a stoup of beer in his hand and leaning against the bar. Standing close enough to be able to talk over the loud music. “Everything good?”

Draco took another sip before answering. “Fine,” he smirked even as he shifted slightly, gazing out over the packed dance floor. “Just tired of dancing.”

That wasn’t entirely true. Rather, he and Harry had been going at it a bit too wild. Harry pressed against his back and moving in a _way_ too provocative manner. Draco really didn’t feel like ending the night early because of their inability to keep their hands off one another. They would fuck later anyhow, and Harry needed this, needed to just have fun with their friends away from the whole “family gathering” on Fridays. Now it was Saturday and it was time for alcohol and laughter, just being out and about. And the night was still young.

Seamus raised his eyebrow. He was tall compared to Draco, tall and muscular. He wasn’t as imposing as Harry mind you. But then again so very few people were. “Did he try to get you naked on the floor,” Seamus teased. It was still surprising to see Seamus so carefree, especially after so many years of him quivering in Harry’s presence. But after Harry had helped him ease his PTSD at the hospital that fear seemed to have let go. Draco wondered if Harry helped him with more than his reoccurring nightmares, perhaps also with his instinct to flee every time Harry came into his field of view?

Draco thought back to what Seamus had said. Naked. Dancefloor. Right.

A short laughter escaped Draco. “I guess that’s one way to put it,” he sipped his drink again. The room started to spin a bit. He should probably hold back from drinking.

Seamus fondly rolled his eyes. Used to Harry and Draco, used to walking into a room and sometimes see Draco pressed into walls because Harry just had to make out a bit ‘ _just for a few seconds… please?’_

Seamus took another long drag from his beer. Finishing it with a rather rude burp. The aristocrat in Draco couldn’t help but sneer slightly at the gesture despite how he forbade his face from displaying anything else than gentle amusement. “Gross,” he voiced. But it was fondly. Seamus was an alright fellow as long as he didn’t go on a paranoid tangent. He was also good to Pansy. One of Draco’s _very_ best friends.

Seamus joined the dancefloor after that. Pansy easily slipping into his arms from Harry’s with a twirl. Instead, Blaise barged into Harry’s arms waggling his eyebrows something ridiculous. Cho was busy howling with laughter. Draco couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him as well.

They sure were silly. So wonderfully silly. And they were all his. His friends, his fiancé. Perhaps soon his husband...

Draco had to fight the tingle in the pit of his stomach as he thought about it. Thought about Harry and him married. Sharing the same last name. Sharing their lives. It was a nice thought, bloody brilliant thought truth be told.

Draco watched as Pansy grabbed hold of Blaise and the playful tugging match dawning right there on the dancefloor. It was time he guessed, to join in on the fun. Harry and he had cooled down enough for now, surely.

He probably shouldn’t have chugged back the last of the drink but he did. It would be a shame to waste it after all. Then Draco began walking forward on unsteady legs, aiming towards the dance floor.

He bumped into many people. That wasn’t really a surprise. But one of the many people that he bumped into stopped him, which wasn’t exactly the norm.

“Hey,” he heard and Draco already had a hurried apology on his lips as he looked up. Tall, blonde and with brown eyes. Not a bad looking fellow but Draco didn’t like the heated way he gazed at him. It was possessive, assessing and cocky and Draco had been hit on enough times to know what was coming.

“My boyfr-” He began because maybe he could avoid this whole mess. But of course, the jackass interrupted him before he could offer much more than half a boyfriend.

“Someone’s looking gorgeous tonight,” the blonde stranger said with a cocky smirk in place. In a way this tall and blonde fellow kind of reminded Draco of himself. At least with that attitude. Like the world ought to bow at his feet. Only Draco was cute when he did it, this guy only looked like an asshole.

“Fuck off,” Draco said because if it was one thing he liked more than avoid these messes with the I-have-a-boyfriend card, it was being an asshole turning people down.

The blonde’s smile only widened, his grip on Draco’s shoulder tightening as he took a step closer. “Kitten has claws,” he mused. And Draco didn’t like that, only Harry got to call him _kitten_.

“And that compensating attitude isn’t working asshole,” Draco’s smile was deadly sharp as he grabbed hold of the hand resting on his shoulder, squeezing the fingers as hard as he could manage. And he could manage pretty fucking hard, even Harry sometimes yelped when he did that to him. Draco usually did it when he sulked and couldn’t help but behave like a brat. A cute brat, but a brat nonetheless. And Harry adored him for it.

This guy didn’t take the hint however, or rather, he ignored it. Pressing closer still even if he let go of Draco’s shoulder. Draco’s fingers did have a punishing grip after all. “I wouldn’t mind having those claws working my back later tonight kitten.”

Draco took a step back because didn’t this guy get his obvious ‘not fucking interested’ vibe? Apparently not because Mr. Asshole just stalked forward. Ha! Stalked. Harry looked deadly doing the stalking thing, like a panther waiting to strike, this guy looked like a sexual offender.

Draco suddenly had a bad feeling about this man, the way he looked at him, like he’d already decided he would have Draco tonight. Draco tried to move faster, tried to make eye contact with Harry. Harry was always there when people were hitting on Draco, always there with possessive hands and a presence that sent men and women alike fleeing. But now for some fucking reason, he was far away, dancing and laughing with their friends.

Just Draco’s goddamn luck.

The room spun dangerously and Draco couldn’t help but stumble.

“Hey, hey,” the man went in closer, hands easily going around Draco’s waist. For a moment Draco held onto the support, everything was flickering behind his eyelid.

Harry, he thought. He needed Harry.

“Someone has had a bit too much?” Draco didn’t like the guy’s voice, all cocky and annoying. The suggestive tone made Draco want to kick something.

“Just back the fuck off Fuck-face.” Draco might be slurring. Despite how his mind was still somewhat clear and yet, everything else was like a fog, a horrible fog. A sudden panic began clawing at his insides. He began to push the hand away, pinching the guy’s arm and all. But he couldn’t quite concentrate, not with his heart beating as hard as it did.

“Come here,” the guy just smiled. And he looked dangerous. Asshole Fuck-face looked _dangerous_. And Draco had been an idiot for not realising it earlier.

“Harry!” Draco shouted even as he tried to struggle more, but he felt clumsy, his attempts at escape weak at best. He really shouldn’t have taken that last shot. Dammit.

It still felt a bit surreal. There were people everywhere and Harry was just a dozen of yards away. Apparently, it might as well be in another country.

Because the music was loud and Draco was clumsy and nobody stopped Fuck-face as he laughed to the on-lookers and told them with a loud voice: “Bit tipsy this one. Don’t worry, I’ll bring him home to sleep it off.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere with you!” But Draco suspected his struggles looked more like reluctance than the panic they were. Suspected that the guys and girls laughing looked at him and saw someone drunk, someone who didn’t know how to hold his liquor. Draco really, really fucking shouldn’t have downed that last shot.

But it had never been like this before. He’d never been this much of a lightweight.

“No,” Draco’s tongue felt thick and he had trouble thinking. Couldn’t everything just please stop spinning?

Fuck-face just laughed.

Then they were outside. There were people standing on the sidewalk outside the club, some were hooting as Draco stumbled along Fuck-face, his hands shaking and his fluttery heart dying. Harry, Harry, Harry, please.

He didn’t even notice as Fuck-face pulled him into an alley. Didn’t even notice until a hard mouth descended onto his. He bit the disgusting lips pressed against his. _Harry, where are you? Please be here. Please help me!_

“Fuck!” Fuck-face backhanded him hard but Draco barely noticed. He just felt the dull thud of his knees and hands hitting the concrete and the numb throbbing in his right cheek. There was a drip of blood hitting the ground beneath him, the ground that was almost black and littered with trash. Draco couldn’t look up, instead, he looked at his hands, his hands that were braced against the concrete, trembling and so, so pale.

Draco owned a company. Owned several companies actually. He was rich and well-known and he had a boyfriend, a fiancé that had superpowers. And here he was, in a gritty alley, getting hit.

His vision blurred. _Fuck, he wasn’t this weak_!

There was a hand grabbing hold of his expensive shirt, the black one that made Harry look at him with hunger. He’d wanted to look good for Harry to night. Wanted to look hot. Suddenly Fuck-face was yanking him up from the ground, facing him. There was blood running from the bite in his lip. The sight made Draco smile smugly. He’d done that.  

The smile earned him nothing but spit in his face. Fuck-face didn’t look cocky anymore, he looked pissed and dangerous. Sexual offender indeed, Draco should have done something before it came to this. Or rather, he _shouldn’t_ have downed that drink.

Fuck-face looked like he was contemplating the best way to make Draco hurt, perhaps also the best way to get this show on the road. Draco’s head was still rattling from the blow. He didn’t think anyone had ever hit him before. Didn’t think anyone had ever made him bleed.

For a brief moment he wished he was Harry. At least then he wouldn’t be here, looking up at Fuck-face’s face with his heart beating a mile a minute.

“You have a nice mouth kitten,” Fuck-face purred after a beat of nothing but the night air and cold. “But I don’t fancy getting my dick chewed off.”

He threw Draco down harshly. Draco didn’t even manage to put up his hands before his face tasted concrete – fuck, that hurt! Didn’t even have time to think before two hands start to pull at his trousers.

And now. In this very moment. Draco starts to seriously panic. Starts to let go of everything and just wail.

“Fuck,” Fuck-face muttered when Draco opened his mouth and let out what could only be described as a siren. Nobody should hear this and think it was nothing. Nobody should hear this cry for help, and go on without investigating. Draco rather die than let this happen to him. He. Rather. _Die_.

He managed to elbow Fuck-face in the ribs even as his mouth kept going “HELP!” on repeat. He was quite proud of himself as he manged to struggle free, just a tiny bit. But then Fuck-face spun him around and gave him another backhand. Only this one was even harder.

Draco’s head flew to the side and there was still not sharp pain. He was too drunk for that. But it shut him up. The punch.

“Fuck Kitten,” Fuck-face panted as he glared at Draco with something sick in his eyes. “You’re such a fucking pussy cat. Just take your fucking with a bit more dignity would you?”

“You’re insane,” Draco managed to mumble because what else could he say?

He got another backhand for the effort. Draco’s face was going numb, his mouth didn’t seem to work properly. Because instead of crying out, instead of getting help, he whimpered like a cowed dog.

Fuck-face seemed to decide to proceed as Draco lied there on the ground, a bit beaten. He just needed to rest, get his wits about him and then he would start screaming again, he promised himself that. But his limbs were heavy.

There were teeth against his throat, nibbling. And for a second Draco was thinking of Harry. But then he realised that it wasn’t Harry, realised that he was here, alone in this alley and was about to be fucked by someone not Harry – Harry who had been just a dozen of feet away.

“No,” Draco tried, but he was tired. Tired and upset and he’d called for help. Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do? Call for help? But no help had arrived… He shouldn’t have had that last drink. He shouldn’t have had it. But how was he supposed to know? Why wasn’t Harry here? “Harry.”

“Such nice skin Kitten,” Fuck-face muttered as a rough hand went up his dark shirt, ripping it in its haste. The shirt he’d worn for Harry. “Soft and pale.”

Draco was ready to faint. To just try to close his eyes and sleep through this- this whole awful thing that was about to happen. He was still panicking, but he didn’t know what to do with that. Didn’t know what you did when your lungs were too large for your ribcage and desperately longed to break free, to just float away. He tried to push Fuck-face away once more, but his limbs just felt so heavy.

Too heavy.

Then, suddenly, Fuck-face wasn’t there anymore. Wasn’t holding him down.

Draco couldn’t help but start crying. What was happening?

“What the fuck is going on? Draco- What?!”

Draco opened his eyes and there was Seamus. Thank god. Seamus.

“Help,” Draco called out even as he looked into Seamus’ dark eyes. “Help.” Help was here but for how long? Should Draco keep calling? He couldn’t quite grab hold of thoughts. He was seeing stars.

“Are you high?” Seamus’ was looking at Draco with wide eyes.

No, Draco wanted to say even as he closed and opened his eyes slowly. He wasn’t high he was drunk. But his limbs felt heavy, and his lungs were still trying to escape through his chest, like bubbles, _black_ bubbles. He wondered where Harry was.

There was a man – Fuck-face, Draco proudly remembered – pushing Seamus into the wall. “What the fuck is your problem!” The man screamed and Draco wanted to help, really, but he was a bit tired. A bit drained. A bit scared.

Seamus didn’t need help apparently. Because Seamus had been a soldier, soldier with Harry Draco remembered. And so Seamus easily punched Fuck-face and threw him to the ground.

“You’re disgusting,” Seamus was screaming and Draco curled up. He didn’t like this place very much. And his shirt was ruined, Harry’s favourite shirt. He didn’t know when he’d started to cry, but all of a sudden his cheeks smarted and his eyes were wet. Disgraceful he heard his father say.

He couldn’t help but wonder what his father would say if he saw him now? Last time he’d seen him had been so many years ago after all. And his father had called him a faggot. It had hurt, he dimly recalled. To be called that. To stop speaking to his mum.

Draco wondered where Harry was. He really wanted him here.

“You stay the fuck down,” Seamus was screaming somewhere far away. “You fucking rapist, you disgusting fucker!”

Draco manged to sit up. Even manged to scoot back a bit, towards the brick wall. It was nice to lean against it, he decided as he settled. Nice and better. He could almost try to think again, almost try to think rationally.

There was a shadow over him all of a sudden. Draco wondered if it was Fuck-face, if he’d somehow overwhelmed Seamus and was deciding to have another go at Draco, at his fluttering heart and trembling body.

But it wasn’t. Seamus was doing an amiable job, holding Fuck-face down.

Instead, it was Harry.

“Draco,” Harry sounded scared. Almost as scared as Draco’s trembling heart. “Draco, fuck, Draco, Draco,” Harry’s voice was wet, wet and broken. Draco’s cheek smarted and he was currently a bit dumb right now, a bit slow. He was a bit heavy as well because he couldn’t lift his arms.

“Harry,” Draco forced his mouth to form shapes, for his lungs to breath air. The name was familiar, cleansing. He never wanted to stop saying Harry’s name. “Harry,” he giggled, it made no sense but he couldn’t help it.

He wondered how long Harry had wanted a child and hadn’t said anything. Wondered if he’d been afraid to say anything, afraid of Draco saying no. Stupid. Draco would never say no to Harry.

Harry was close. Just inches away. His big hands carefully stroking his left, unhurt cheek, even as his eyes clouded over in something dangerous. It wasn’t anger, it was far worse than that.

“We could adopt,” Draco got out even as Harry checked him over for wounds. “Or solve it some other way… There’s always surrogates and such…”

“Draco,” Harry looked scared again, scared but dangerous, like a cornered lion. “What are you talking about?”

Draco furrowed his eyebrows. It was strange, his whole body trembled still, why? What had happened now again? Everything was so fussy. He remembered Harry’s favourite shirt being ripped.

“I’m sorry,” he said, tongue still thick and uncooperative in his mouth. “I destroyed the shirt.”

“He’s drugged Harry.” That was Seamus. “This fucker must have drugged him before he took him.”

Harry turned back to Draco, his face strange and void of emotion. Harry’s face wasn’t usually void of emotion though, not anymore. But now, this very moment, it was almost like after he’d come back from the south, when he still had walked around with that amused look about him, amused, carefree and dangerous. Like a madman with the detonator to a bomb. Draco had hated that look, hated that he couldn’t read it, hated that Harry had acted like he didn’t care.

At least Harry didn’t smirk. But his face was still so very empty.

“Harry,” Draco forced his arms to move, to cling to the side of Harry’s beautiful face.

“What did he do to you?” Harry looked up then, eyes still void of emotions. Draco might as well have been in front a stranger. “Where did he touch you?”

“He…” Draco was still confused but there had been someone hadn’t there? He’d been scared he thought. Scared and with lungs too big for his chest. Fuck-face. “He tried to kiss me,” Draco was far away as he remembered cruel lips against his. “I bit him.” He couldn’t help but smile proudly. “He got mad.”

“So good Draco.” Draco was awarded a flicker of something dangerous but proud. Like a wolf mother watching her children take down their first kill. Then Harry was back to empty, but he was vibrating, like he couldn’t wait to do something. Draco wondered what?

“He hit me,” Draco remembered the dull impact, feeling utterly helpless and void of all hope. “Several times I think. I guess he didn’t like me.”

Harry crowded closer, hand clutching Draco’s face firmer.

“He ripped the shirt,” Draco felt upset. It had been Harry’s favourite shirt. “He bit my throat.”

One of Harry’s hands travelled down from his face and settled around his delicate throat, right over where Fuck-face had bitten and sucked. It felt good, good enough for Draco to cry a little bit. That felt surprisingly good as well.

Harry was so close like this, he could feel him with every swallow, every unsteady breath.

“Good?” Harry was watching him intently, was always watching him intently, except tonight.

“You didn’t see,” Draco regretted the whispered words the second they left his mouth. “I tried calling you and you didn’t see.” He needed to shut up, but it was like he didn’t decide what went out his mouth, like maybe he’d lost control of his own body. Could fear do that?

A flicker of something raw showed in Harry’s face and Draco wanted to pluck the words out of the air and bury them deep down under ground. Where they would be forgotten and silent.

“I’m sorry Draco.” And Harry sounded fucking sorry. He shouldn’t be. Draco knew logically that things like this happened, just as he knew about Harry wanting to adopt children and his shirt being ripped. “I’m so sorry.”

Draco felt crowded in his own head, it was too much. Harry shouldn’t feel guilty. “Harder,” Draco said then, his hand dropping from Harry’s face to his hand around his throat. He felt like he was floating away, he needed harder.

But Harry just shook his head. “I’m not giving you harder.”

“Please,” Draco tried to force Harry’s hand to tighten with his own, but unsurprisingly to no success. “Just a little.”

He sighed happily when Harry complied, even if it was close to nothing, just a slight press firmer, not enough really. But Draco knew this was as good as he would get, so he settled. At least the strangeness inside his chest became manageable.

“Kiss me,” he demanded then.

Harry began shaking his head again.

“Kiss. Me.”

Harry did.

It wasn’t a long kiss and absolutely not a dirty one. It was a quick, chaste kiss. A kiss so simple that Draco wondered if they’d ever kissed this dispassionately before? It didn’t sit well with him. He wondered why Harry was so careful with him. Something had happened hadn’t it? Right Fuck-face… he kept forgetting.

“I don’t remember,” Draco whispered and all of a sudden he was scared. Because he didn’t remember. “It’s like it all is slipping away.”

“Nothing’s slipping away Draco,” Harry whispered, voice more wet than neutral. That was good. Why was that good?

“I don’t want to forget,” Draco started to cry again.

“It’s the drug,” Harry just returned. “We’re going to call an ambulance and we’ll go to the hospital. You’re going to remember fine real soon. All right kitten?”

“Don’t call me that!” Draco scrambled away from Harry. “I’m not a kitten,” he began crying harder. Why? What was happening? Everything was spinning and he hurt on the inside. Hurt real bad.

“Okay,” Harry was crowding close, surrounding him. “Draco,” Harry’s hand around his throat returned, a firm pressure. It was nice, he stopped struggling. Someone had bitten his throat, someone not Harry. But now his throat was Harry again. That was good. Right?

“You know I would do anything for you Harry,” Draco’s thoughts were flying, souring high. “I wouldn’t mind adopting.”

“Seamus.” Harry had turned away. “You need to go with Draco to the hospital, okay? He… He’s bad.”

“We need to call the cops.”

“I’ll hold him,” Harry sounded casual, but Draco felt the slight twitch in the hand engulfing his throat. A telling twitch. “Call the police and all that.”

Seamus was blocked by Harry. But even Draco thought the silence ringing out was telling. Seamus was hesitating. Because of Harry.

Draco couldn’t help but remember a man sitting opposite of Harry. A murderer slowly biting off his tongue while Harry sat just a foot or two away, blank, perhaps even satisfied with proceedings.

But Harry wasn’t like that anymore. Harry had hated when he was like that. So Harry couldn’t be like that again. It would destroy something, something vital.

“ _You_ take me to the hospital,” Draco whimpered. “You work there.”

Harry looked at him, his face a bit torn between blank, hesitant and dangerous. “Draco,” he dragged out his name, Harry’s broad hand shifting on his throat. “I’ll take care of it.”

“No,” Draco found strength in his weak limbs, clinging to Harry. “You take care of me.”

“Draco-”

Harry wasn’t blank Draco realised with a startling clarity. Harry wasn’t sitting here next to him holding him together with strong hands and a watchful gaze. Harry was actually far away, was actually just waiting for Draco to be on his way, for Seamus to disappear as well. He was waiting for a chance to be alone with Fuck-face.

Draco had another, rather nauseating, realisation. Fuck-face wouldn’t make it to the police station. Whatever would happen to him would be worse than prison, worse than death. Harry was sitting here, waiting for a goddamn chance to tear Fuck-face’s flesh from his very bones.

Draco gripped Harry tighter. “You take me to the hospital.” He was weak, weak and spilling out all over the place. But he forced his shattered thoughts to gather, forced them to line up into something resembling sense, clarity. Harry couldn’t do this, not when he’d worked so hard to fix him.

“Draco…” Harry said his name like that would sway him, like that would make Draco relent and go away with Seamus. Harry should know better.

“You come with me,” Draco’s limbs were heavy, so, so heavy. He forced himself to hold on, even when the first hint of darkness made his eyelids flutter. “You come with me and hold my fucking hand. Harry, I’m not just saying this. You are going to do this.”

For a second Harry’s blank mask slipped. Underneath was cold fury. So concentrated that Draco almost flinched from the sight of this Harry. He wondered if others had seen Harry like this, so murderous, so callous. Like he would like nothing else than to watch the world burn.

But Draco wasn’t weak enough to let that scare him, wasn’t stupid enough to flinch back. He clung on. Because he loved Harry, and he would be damned if he allowed Harry to do something as stupid as to jeopardise how far they’d come. They were going to have children for Christ sake. Adopted, adorable kids… Draco wondered what they would call them.

But it wasn’t about children… this was about something else. Draco felt his heart speed up as he tried to remember. He hated this, how everything kept escaping like water through his fingers.

“Harry,” and now his voice wasn’t burning, now it was weak. “I keep forgetting.”

Harry closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against Draco’s with a small sigh. Draco tried to grab onto his fleeting thoughts. He was here because of a reason, something, someone…

“Harry,” Draco might have sounded torn, upset and really, really scared.

“I’ll come with you Draco,” Harry’s voice was a bit desperate, but sincere nonetheless. “You’ll remember. It’s just the drug.”

“I don’t take drugs.”

“I know,” Harry stroked his hair slowly. “I know Draco.”

At least Harry would stay with him. And that was good. But Draco couldn’t really remember why that was good. At least Harry’s hand covered his throat, at least he kept him grounded with touch and soft whispers. And Draco wouldn’t go to the hospital by himself.

Why was that good now again?

Draco felt a wave of panic approach but he forced it down. Darkness was pressing in and his mind still didn’t want to cooperate, didn’t want to put two and two together. He hated this, he thought even as the darkness approached…

“Draco, hey! Stay with me okay?”

…Hated that he couldn’t remember. Harry had said something about drugs, hadn’t he?

“I think I’m going to sleep,” Draco mumbled to nobody.

“ _You’re going to stay awake_.”

He hadn’t expected Harry to fucking COM him. But he found himself fighting the darkness, rather viciously.

“Stay with me Draco,” Harry dragged him off the ground, cradling him in his strong arms. Draco felt like he was somehow flying. “We’re going to get you to the hospital. You’re going to be okay.”

“Am I?” He wasn’t sure actually. Everything was slipping. There was only one thing he knew and that was that Harry had to stay with him. That he needed Harry to be right there.

“ _You are. You are going to be okay.”_

And it helped. Even as they flew out the alley and into a car Draco realised that the COM helped. That he now knew, he was going to be okay.

And so the panic was kept at bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> Now it's truly just one more chapter left (plus maybe an ending to Sirius and Remus… we'll see)! 
> 
> This awful and horrible chapter might seem a bit strange this close to the end. But it will bring an important element to the last installment in this story so don't you worry… I have everything under control! :D
> 
> Anyhow, thank you all for being with me this far! It takes a while for me to answer comments but I read all of them and they always manage to help me get a move on with writing! So thank you all who leave a comment, but also you guys who leave kudos and all of you who just goes along on this journey with me like an invisible - but ever so friendly - ghost! It's wonderful to know I have people out there who enjoy my writing ^^
> 
> Anyhow! I will try to get out the last chapter quick, but it's a bit longer than your usual chapters so it might take a while :/ My aim is two weeks from now though! :D
> 
> Cheers, and until next time, stay awesome!


	12. New, better, beginnings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings are found in the tags. Might be some misspellings since English isn't my mother language; feel free to comment if you find any ghastly ones. This fic is set in an alternative universe. Enjoy.

– 30 years old –

It was stupid really, Draco thought as he felt his right leg cramp. They’d been doing this for God knew how long and Draco was about to use his fucking safe word for the most pathetic reason there was. Cramping legs.

Sure, he could just ask Harry to release him of the COM… but then again, that would require Harry to be _in_ the room.

He hissed between his teeth as his leg muscles contracted with a burning intensity. Fuck, he thought even as he tried to blink away the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, this hurt. And Draco wasn’t used to pain. Was as weak as they came and fuck- his legs _hurt_.

Draco couldn’t hold it, really couldn’t fucking hold back from wheezing out the word as he felt himself tremble.

“Expelliarmus,” he whispered, relief flooding as he was released from the COM, immediately falling to the floor and slowly biting through the wave of burning pain. It would pass, he told himself. It would pass.

Harry would be back soon as well. He’d just gone to fetch a glass of water and lube. Draco felt kind of silly as he laid on the carpet in the living room, the soft Persian one Harry had bought, all the while grinning dangerously at him in the store. Draco had known why they’d bought an extra thick carpet, the salesman hadn’t. Perhaps just as well. Draco did have limits to his mortification, something Harry apparently didn’t.

His legs relaxed slowly. The pain seeping out like sand through fingers. _That’s better_ , Draco thought as he slowly uncurled from his fetal position. He looked down his body, pale, slender and only marked by love bites around his lower stomach and hips. He felt something tingle inside his stomach and he let out a small huff. Harry sure could be possessive.

“Draco?” Suddenly he heard Harry’s voice. He sounded worried. Draco wasn’t particularly surprised.

“Cramps,” was all he said, turning his head to stare at Harry in the doorway. He had indeed a glass of water in his hand and lube casually stuffed in the pocket of his sweatpants. It wasn’t rare to see Harry without a shirt. Draco had had his share of drooling over Harry’s abdominal muscles and firm pecks but it still made him pause, stare, always. Like when Harry sometimes wore glasses instead of lenses, his eyes always seemed to glow brighter when enclosed by large, wireframed circles. Or when he’d just woken up from sleep, face relaxed and smile lazy. Or when he…

Harry interrupted Draco’s starring by coming closer. He put down the glass of water on the low coffee table, hands moving towards Draco’s skin like target seeking missiles. Draco let out another sigh at the feeling of rough but gentle hands sliding over his skin.

“Where did you cramp?”

“Legs,” Draco bit back a moan as those hands touched his hips briefly before settling high on his thighs. He closed his eyes, just enjoying the heat of Harry’s hands.

“Here?” Harry probably looked worried, was probably already making up plans in his head on how to prevent this from happening again. But Draco was good at kneeling. Was damn good at it actually and he liked it. Like… a lot.

“Yeah.” Draco opened his eyes as he felt capable hands dig into tense muscles and kneading slowly but firmly. It was bliss. “But – ah,” Draco bit back a moan at the close to heavenly feeling of Harry rubbing his legs, fingers so damn sure, unyielding. “The safe word worked good.”

Something dark crossed Harry’s face even as he began moving down with his hands, following Draco’s slender legs with possessive hands. “You shouldn’t have to use it.”

Draco just rolled his eyes. “Yes I should idiot.”

But Harry was stubborn, looking down at where his hands were working and refusing to meet his gaze. And Draco wasn’t really in any position to get annoyed, not when Harry kept working over his legs so damn good. God, Draco wondered if Harry had taken classes or if some people were just born with God-given talent when it came to making others melt to goo. Because he was, melting to goo.

“Listen,” Draco didn’t like the way he breathed heavy between every word, whimpers and small moans escaping his mouth, reducing his assertiveness to close zero.  Not that all that mattered much with Harry. “This was a good thing. And it wasn’t anything you did wrong-”

“I shouldn’t have left you. I should have waited with the COM-”

“No but _listen_ ,” Draco really should be vertical when they talked about this. But the carpet was soft, and Harry’s hands were just so nice. “I love kneeling for you. You know that.”

Harry was at least silent but his face was blank. It was hard to know if he was listening to Draco or just humouring him. But Draco was fairly certain he was listening, Harry did after all usually listen, exception be when the matter concerned Draco’s wellbeing. Then he was like a stubborn mule… But, well… two could play that game.

“Harry,” Draco pushed his hand forward, gripping Harry’s square jaw with delicate fingers. But the grip was hard, he’d always had a rather strong grip. Harry’s hands stilled. “I’m fine. It was a cramp. People get them all the time. They’re like sneezes.”

Harry looked at him, his green eyes wide. “I,” his eyes flickered. “I know. I’m just-” Harry didn’t seem certain of anything for a moment. His posture reminding Draco of the boy he’d gone to school with. The one with messy hair and shy eyes. The one who hadn’t dared to speak very much because of a certain voice. Not that Draco had known about the COM then.

No, it had been later, he thought with a tilted smile. It had been in the car when they’d been flirting and Harry had COMed him to kiss him and then-

Draco froze.

What.

 _What_ …

The car. Kissing. Harry crying. Harry telling him to forget…

For a second he just sat there, allowing the memory to slowly wash over him.

Then he jerked away from Harry. Fast. Like, really fucking fast.

What was going on? He trembled as his mind ached. It was almost like he’d tapped into something locked away. Like a memory he’d always had but forgotten the neural pathway to. But now he remembered. He’d forgotten. God… no, he’d been _made_ to forget.

Draco knew he was breathing heavy, knew his whole body was trembling as he tried to make sense of his own mind.

He kept crawling backwards, even hissing when Harry tried to reach for him.

“Draco,” Harry sounded a bit scared, but calm. He tried to sound calm despite how Draco saw how he actually was fucking terrified. “Is it another attack?”

Right, the fucker from last year who’d tried to rape him. Draco didn’t remember that either. Some fucking drug had made the night more into a hazy nightmare than an actual memory. Draco was still freaking out about it from time to time, but it had gotten better. But this…

Draco remembered how he’d thought it weird back then. They’d been in a car in the middle of nowhere, so young. He hadn’t known why he had kept kissing Harry when Harry obviously wanted him to stop? And Harry had cried. And Draco hadn’t known why.

Draco’s breath hitched as he remembered sitting paralyzed in the car listening to a young Harry sob his heart out. Then Ron had been there and Hermione and then…

Then.

Harry had told him to forget.

Draco suddenly wanted to vomit really badly. Just as he really wanted to open his mind to look at it, to make sure nothing else was missing. He didn’t even know why he remembered this now. It… it had been years. Over _ten_ fucking years.

Everything was shattering. Like, Draco was looking down at everything and it all seemed so fucking wrong. This wasn’t his reality. This- There must be some sort of mistake, maybe he was hallucinating? Maybe that cramp actually had been some sort of attack?

Or maybe he’d safe worded for the first time ever and the COM had freed him from all earlier COMs…

_Forget this Draco. Forget this evening. Nothing happened between you and I._

Then he’d been freed. Expelliarmus.

 _Be yourself_.

Draco’s hands were cradling his head. His mind was still spinning, still unwrapping the fucking lie that was his life. How… How could this have happened?

Draco really had to vomit. He barely managed to turn to the side before dinner welled up. They’d eaten Spaghetti Carbonara. It looked disgusting lying on the Persian carpet, staining it and stinking something horrible.

“Draco, God,” Harry was there and he was touching him. Large hands were folding over Draco’s naked shoulders, warm and soothing. It took a second for Draco to react.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” He didn’t think he’d ever yelled as loud as he did right now. He was sobbing, his throat burning and his stomach preparing to empty itself once more.

Harry was backing away, his eyes wide and unsure. “Draco,” he sounded small, so fucking small.

“I want Blaise,” Draco cried. He vomited again, suddenly, a disgusting sound of gagging and splatter disrupting the ringing of echoes. “Blaise. I- I need,” Draco sobbed, disgusted as some of the vomit dript got on him. Shit, he must appear so fucking repulsive right now. Not that it mattered, it _didn’t_.

For the first time in Harry’s presence, Draco felt horribly naked. Naked, weak and so fucking broken. What had happened? He- he knew Harry. Knew him from inside out. How… How could it be that this big thing, this larger than fucking life thing had been kept from him? Kept _forcefully_ from him. It- it had been Draco’s memory too. Why…

Why?

Harry was dialling Blaise, speaking quickly into the phone. But Draco barely noticed. He was just lying there, trying to breathe as his mind whirled. He kept remembering how he’d kissed Harry. KISSED him. He’d thought Astoria had been his first kiss. He’d thought he’d kissed Harry for the first time when they were nineteen. He’d thought… He’d thought Harry hadn’t wanted him for so long.

He… He’d had sex with Astoria because he’d thought Harry didn’t care. Didn’t want him. He- He’d been so sad, sad for years.

And now… He’d though they’d been happy. Thought he’d know what the fuck was going on.

“Draco please,” Harry was close. Not close enough for Draco to panic but still too fucking close. “Talk to me. Everything is all right. Blaise is on his way.”

Harry wasn’t like this. Wasn’t nervous and panicky, Harry was always so fucking calm and in control. But now he was strange, his eyes wide and hands fumbling as he kneeled on the carpet.

“Draco,” his voice was thick. Not smooth or controlled but _fucked up_.

How could he? How could he have been with Draco all this time and hidden this? How…? Who…? Who the fuck was Harry? He’d been so sure there had been no secrets between them. Harry had told him about being to war in the desert. Told him about Lily and his fears and insecurities. They hadn’t hidden anything for one another. Right?

Draco had thought they were in love, soulmates- _God_. But what if it hadn’t been like that? What if Draco didn’t know a damn thing? What if he’d just thought he’d had his life figured out but in reality everything was different?

“Draco please.” Harry’s lip was wobbling. That hadn’t happened before, not really. “Please just talk to me, let me help you.”

Draco couldn’t look at him. And just moments ago he hadn’t been able to look away. “I,” his voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. “I just…” He didn’t know what to say, it was like there wasn’t enough air in the room for him to take a full breath, for him to speak up. He really wanted a blanket, maybe trousers, anything.

Harry shifted closer, his body tense and hands still uselessly fluttering around. “Talk to me Draco, please. I love you.”

“Why?” Draco didn’t know if he was speaking. He presumed he did. He heard his broken voice in the heavy silence in the room. Their room. Their home. This felt tilted, wrong. Not like a home at all, like maybe this had all been a pretty filter hiding the ugly truth.

Draco desperately wanted out of here.

“Why what Draco?” Harry’s voice was soft, wet. He still tried to sound encouraging, kind. But it was clear he was freaking out, Draco had never behaved like this towards him. Not even after the fuck up at Greengrass’ manor.

“The kiss. You… You made me forget.”

Harry’s eyes were questioning, like maybe he didn’t know what Draco was talking about. “What kiss?” His voice was careful. Like maybe he feared that Draco would start vomiting again? Draco could imagine how much Harry longed to touch him, to wipe him clean and hold him close.

But was that true? Draco thought he knew Harry… But he didn’t. Hadn’t. Right?

Perhaps Harry didn’t want to care for him at? Perhaps this had been something else? He didn’t want to think that, his very heart cracked at the very thought, but how would he know? Perhaps there were many things Draco didn’t know anything about?

All of a sudden he felt incredible stupid for marrying someone who could control people using his voice. Someone who could cast illusions with mere words.

Draco’s head spun.

“Draco,” and all of a sudden Harry’s eyes widened. Like he remembered, remembered that he’d taken something away from Draco. And not just one thing, he’d taken so goddamn many things from Draco by taking that memory. So many things.

Draco wanted to cry. Because Harry knew what he was talking about. Remembered about that disastrous kiss and cold betrayal. Perhaps he should have waited to tell Harry he remembered until Blaise had come to take him away? He didn’t know Harry, right? Because _his_ Harry wouldn’t have done this, wouldn’t have allowed everything they’d ever had to be built on a fucking lie.

“No, no, no, no,” Harry whimpered, fingers curling into something resembling claws as he managed to force his body to stay put. Stay the fuck away from Draco.

“I-“ Draco wanted something to cover himself with. “Don’t talk to me. Just…” Fuck, his breathing was too shaky, too fast. “Just get me something, a blanket just…”

“Draco please, just hear me out, please, God, please Draco-”

“A blanket,” Draco interrupted, hating how tears fell with renewed force down his damp cheeks. “I don’t want to be naked.”

He closed his eyes, couldn’t look at Harry. He just really needed to get away. Get away from Harry, this lie of a life they’d built together. He felt cold metal on his finger, the ring. The ring which Harry had given him with a sweet kiss and a beaming smile. God, this couldn’t be a lie. All of this just couldn’t. It would break him, break him utterly and completely.

He kept the ring on. For now. On the inside was the number from Harry’s dogtags engraved. Draco had thought it romantic, cute.

Harry went away quickly to get a blanket. Draco just wrapped his arms around himself, shivering without freezing. Blaise would be here soon, would be here any second. He needed to think, he… he needed to be away from Harry. His mind was a jumble right now, just edges of hurt and anger. What right did Harry have-

Draco interrupted his thoughts. He couldn’t go there now, he needed to get out of here, needed to think everything through. He tried to think logically about it for a moment despite how his throat burned and stomach ached. Despite the way he trembled and had a ponding headache.

He was upset he realised, and that was clouding his judgment.

But then he just started to think of how Harry had let him go. Had allowed him to get together with Astoria, had abandoned him for war. How he’d taken away _his_ memories of them. And not only that… he hadn’t returned them. Perhaps he’d never planned to return them. _His_ goddamn memories!

Draco’s startled out of his thoughts by Harry offering him a blank with a weak “Draco. A- A blanket.”

Draco ignored how his body on one hand wanted to sooth Harry, to forgive him without hesitation just to get that broken expression away from his face. Harry was never this full of expressions. He was always guarded and in control. It wasn’t fair that he did this now, showing all of these emotions.

Draco took the blanket quickly, taking care not to touch Harry. It was easier when he was wrapped up, when he could wipe away the vomit stuck on his arm and leg, wipe away the tears dripping down his cheeks.

Harry was just staring at him. Draco didn’t look but he knew it anyhow. That Harry was looking, looking and longing. Harry who Draco had thought wasn’t able to do anything to him, least of all take his memories and never returning them.

God, Draco’s mind just couldn’t move past it. It was like a vicious cycle. Harry avoiding him, Harry not caring a goddamn bit that Draco got a girlfriend. Harry returning to war despite Draco doing everything he could think of to convince him otherwise. Harry doing everything in his power to keep them apart.

What changed? And what _didn’t_ change enough for Harry to give this back to Draco? Their first kiss. Their disastrous first kiss.

 _His_ Harry wouldn’t do that to him.

But then again he wasn’t sure he entirely knew Harry.

The sound of Blaise knocking on the door startled both of them.

Draco looked up from where he was hiding his face in soft, white cotton. He felt something hurt inside of him at the look on Harry’s face. The broken, panicked look.

“Please,” Harry whispered, hands knotted tightly as he kneeled in front of Draco, gaze intent. “Please Draco let me explain, let- just let me tell you- I’m sorry. So, so sorry, please don’t leave. God Draco I can’t do this if you leave-”

But Draco was just shaking his head because not now. He couldn’t do this now. He felt like vomiting again. Fuck. “I don’t want to listen.”

Harry was nodding even as Blaise knocked again. This time more insistent. “If you go. Promise to come back then,” he said, voice strong despite the wetness hiding in it. “Just promise you’ll come back.”

Draco nodded because he would come back. He would. “I-” his voice almost broke. “I’ll come back.”

Harry nodded, something inside of him obviously uncoiling despite how his posture didn’t change. “I love you Draco,” Harry sounded close to tears. “I love you so ridiculous much. I-”

“I can’t right now Harry,” Draco’s voice broke for real this time. Ungraceful, pathetic. Blaise knocked again. “I just- I just really need to go.”

Harry looked like he wanted to say more, looked like he had a thousand more things to say. But instead he took an unsteady breath and got up from the floor. His looming body still a size bigger than everybody else’s but now slumped, less big for once. Draco had to turn his gaze away, this was all so wrong. So awfully wrong.

“What happened?” Draco heard Blaise ask from the hallway. His voice high-pitched and nervous. “Harry, mate-”

“I need you to take care of Draco,” Harry sounded steady again, the fearless soldier. “Whatever he wants… I- I just need you to be there for him.”

Blaise silence spoke more than a thousand words. Draco could hear his heart beat even as he couldn’t stop remembering Harry looking at him and telling him to forget. He’d always wondered why Harry had turned cold. Why Harry had snogged that random girl at that party when they were 16 years old. If it hadn’t been because of that, because of Harry crowding a pretty redhead and pretty much trying to crawl inside of her, Draco wouldn’t have gotten together with Astoria. He was sure of it. He would have waited for Harry, because they’d always been it for one another. Or so he’d thought.

Blaise was suddenly kneeling in front of him. “Draco,” his voice sounded careful.

Draco wondered if Blaise thought he was disgusting almost sitting in his own vomit. He hoped not.

“Blaise,” Draco knew his face was a mess of red, tears and snot. He just wanted to be held really, really badly.

“God Draco.”

And then Draco was being held by Blaise. Strong arms was holding him and it was enough, enough that if he just didn’t think about it he could pretend the arms belonged to someone else, someone with raven hair and emerald eyes. Someone he’d thought he knew everything about, someone who’d made a decision – a big fucking decision – for him, them. Harry.

God, Harry.

“I want to go,” Draco didn’t know if his voice was understandable, he was just so sad, so overwhelmingly sad. His voice showed it. “For a while.”

“Of course,” Blaise snuck glances at Harry even as he helped Draco to stand up on trembling legs, still clutching the blanket. It took ages to make their way to the door. Harry was hovering nearby, completely silent and yet deafening loud. Draco tried to keep his gaze averted, keep it on the door to their home.

It was two forces inside of him, fighting. One force wanted to forgive Harry, the other wanted to leave, leave and make Harry hurt. Harry was already hurting, Draco knew that logically. But there was still a vicious voice inside of him speaking of betrayal and hurt.

He needed to get out of here. Needed to think everything through properly with some distance. He’d never wanted distance with Harry before.

“I love you,” Harry offered him again when Draco was dressed in a coat, sweatpants and shoes. His mother would have fainted seeing him like this, ruffled, disgraceful.

“Harry,” Blaise spoke up. Just as good. Draco had nothing to say, nothing he might not regret later. “We will talk later alright?”

Harry was staring at Draco, Draco was staring away. His stomach was turning on itself again, but not as bad as earlier, not bad enough to make him puke.

“Yeah of course,” Harry didn’t really sound like Harry. Draco forced himself not to care.

Then they were off. And Draco was sobbing anew as Blaise and him drove away. Blaise tried to talk to him but Draco didn’t want to talk. He didn’t particularly want to think about Harry either. His Harry who loved him, protected him and would do anything just to make him happy. Harry who he’d thought he could trust with his life.

How could he have done _this_?!

The thought, memory, was still so unexpected and contradicting to everything Draco had thought himself know about Harry that he wanted to scream. The world was still off kilter. Forever changed to the worse.

“Draco,” Blaise tried in a soft voice even as they drove up his and Cho’s driveway. “Whatever happened will be fine you know.” He was trying to sound encouraging, Draco could tell. “Harry and you will talk it out and it will be fine.”

“It won’t be fine.” Draco sounded harsh and broken at the same time. “Things… Things aren’t as I thought they were.”

“It can’t be that bad Draco,” Blaise stopped the car, turning off the engine with a swift motion. “You’re both crazy for each other.”

But Draco didn’t know. How could he? Harry hadn’t just kept things from him, he’d taken things, plucked them straight out of his mind. “We are aren’t we.” Draco sounded wrong, Blaise would without doubt notice.

He did.

“Draco…”

And he couldn’t take Blaise’s careful words, couldn’t stand being handled with kid gloves. He just wanted to not think about this for a while. Was that too much to ask for? “I want to see a movie,” Draco declared into the silence of the car. “Action or horror without any stupid romantic subplots. Just anything.”

Blaise was nodding, his smile thin at best. “Of course.”

 – 1 day later –

Harry was scared. More scared that he’d ever been in his whole life. He hadn’t slept yesterday, hadn’t done much of anything after Draco had left.

Draco had _left_.

He didn’t think he’d stopped shaking after the door had slammed shut. He had on the other hand called Remus. “ _Remus_ ,” he’d not even to be able to control his other voice. “Draco is gone-”

Remus had told him to come to Grimmauld place. Harry hadn’t hesitated.

Now he was sitting at the kitchen table, a steaming cup of joe in front of him. Remus was sitting opposite him, his eyes wary but posture relaxed. Leo was also in the kitchen, sloppily buttering his sandwich as he hummed the team song of some children’s show. Sirius and Mary was apparently both away this week. Mary on business meetings and Sirius on some case in Scotland.

“Moony,” Leo said as he held forth a buttered hand and an unbuttered bread. “’S not working.” He looked awfully bothered as he frowned, silvery eyes a bit blank.

“Here,” Remus easily picked up Leo and put him on his knee, hand smoothing over raven-haired curls and carefully wiping the small hand. “Better?” he left a small kiss on Leo’s cheek. Leo was still frowning a bit, but looked calmed as he received a perfect sandwiched, topped with his favourite cheese.

“Thank you Moony,” he beamed before digging in, clumsily grabbing at the cup of milk. Moony patiently helped him as Leo bumped the cup on his nose. Leo just giggled.

Harry tried to concentrate on Leo with his rosy cheeks and cuteness but it didn’t really help. Instead he was thinking about Draco and how they last week had talked about adopting. Harry had been against it for so long because he’d know _this_ would happen. Had always known it.

But of late, he’d began to believe – just the tiniest bit – that maybe Draco wouldn’t leave him in the end. Maybe he could actually have Draco… forever. And it had been stupid, because Harry had always been steeling himself for the day Draco would realise he was a monster and leave him. For Draco to one day start withdrawing, giving him tight smiles, to in the end declare that they needed to talk.

But that hadn’t happened for ten years. Ten wonderful years. He’d married Draco, they’d started to talk about adopting against Harry’s better judgment. Perhaps this was for the best, at least they didn’t have kids who would be caught up in the mess that was divorce.

God. Harry wanted to beg Draco to stay just imagining him leaving. Wanted to tear out his vocal cords if it would do any difference. Would it do a difference? He couldn’t help but allow his hand to wander to his throat, feeling the beating of pulse underneath his fingers. It would hurt maybe, but if it would make Draco stay. Harry wouldn’t even hesitate.

Leo let out a giggle as Remus made a funny face and Harry was jerked out of his morbid thoughts. It was probably a good thing, he thought, coming here, to Grimmauld place. God knows what he’d done if he’d been left to his own devices. It was hard not to do something, anything, just as it was.

“Harry,” Remus said, looking up from where he’d been smiling down at Leo. “How do you feel about a nap?”

Harry was already shaking his head. “Won’t work.”

“Harry,” Remus kept holding onto Leo, stroking his back as he kept desecrating the sandwich. “You didn’t sleep at all last night.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that. “I think there will be a long time until I’ll sleep again.”

“He’s going to forgive you,” Remus sounded as calm as the sea. Sounded so goddamn certain, but Harry knew it wouldn’t be that simple. Knew he’d screwed up beyond fixing. He’d always imagined that Draco would realise he was a monster in his own time… it shouldn’t have been like this… Not like this…

Harry should have told him. Of course he should have told him. But there was so many things he hadn’t told Draco. So many things he’d kept hidden. Most of them from the south. It had been a fucking miracle that Draco hadn’t left him after what Moody had shown him in the interrogation room. But Harry had seen how Draco sometimes looked at him, knew he sometimes was afraid. He had just wanted to live in this wonderful lie a couple of months more.

He should never have allowed them to get married. If he’d been a better man he would never have clung desperately to Draco, desperately enough for him to break off his engagement and marry him instead. Draco could have had a life right now. A life with a normal girl, a life where he still spoke to his parents, a life without a monster sleeping beside him every night.

“Harry,” Remus was looking at him with worry in his eyes. Leo was also looking at Harry underneath long lashes. Leo was looking so much like Sirius it was sometimes hard to imagine that Mary was in there as well. The only visible trait that he had from his mother was his curly hair. Sirius had always had fairly straight locks.

“Yes,” Harry sipped his coffee, it tasted like ash.

“Listen to me,” Remus sounded careful. “You have to just give him time.”

Leo was staring to and fro between them, chewing on his sandwich. “Time!” he called out for no particular reason. Remus gazed down lovingly at him.

“That’s right,” he said, warmness evident in his voice. “Just give it time and things will be alright again.”

“You can’t know that,” Harry clenched his fists tightly. “You can’t possibly know that.”

Because it wouldn’t happen would it? Harry had taken something from Draco, kept quiet about it for years. Just as he had kept quiet about a lot of things. Kept quiet about torture, blood and the brink of madness somewhere in a sandy dessert.

 _“We’re gods you and I,_ ” he remembered Bella telling him covered in blood. _“We can both pretend to play nice with the mortals but in the end they’re nothing but flies. Easily killed flies!”_

That had been about two days before Harry had used the other voice to tell her to stop breathing. One month before he’d returned to London, easily manipulating the Greengrass’ and Moody to hold a gathering in their backyard. He’d used the other voice to make Astoria and Mr Greengrass steer Draco towards him, he hadn’t even hesitated. Moody had been livid when he’d gotten released of the command. Harry hadn’t even cared when he’d been threatened with determination.

He’d been too busy clinging to Draco to care about much else.

Maybe determination by Moody would have been a blessing, Harry would have spent – if not his whole life – at least the reminder of it by Draco’s side. Because Draco- _God_. Most days Draco was the only thing that made sense in this awful world.

“Time won’t fix this.” Harry had cried last night, for the first time in what felt like a decade. “Time won’t fix me Remus. I- I’m-” It was no point saying it, Remus would predictable just tell him it wasn’t true, tell Harry he wasn’t a horrible monster disguised as something human.

Looking at Remus though, it looked like he already suspected what Harry thought.

“I fix Hawwy,” Leo declared, wriggling out of Moony’s grasp. He walked around the table on small, clumsy legs. His hands were a mess of sandwich, butter and cheese. Harry’s trousers stained as he grasped onto his leg. “Up!” He giggled, button nose adorably wrinkled and silvery eyes twinkling.

Harry just bent down to pick Leo up, seating him on his leg with ease. Leo immediately started to pawn at Harry’s shirt, leaving even more stains. Harry didn’t really care.

“Down,” Leo waved his small arms around, making butter fly everywhere. Remus was snorting from across the table, obviously enjoying this. Harry bent his head down, nose almost touching the top of Leo’s head.

It was a surprise when Leo kissed his cheek with a loud smack.

“Thewe,” he sounded proud. “Kiss bad away.”

Harry felt very protective of the small boy in his lap, curling his large hands careful around him. His heart did hurt a little less. “Thank you,” he sounded choked up. He carefully kissed Leo on the top of his head. “Thank you pup.”

Leo just beamed, turning around and making himself comfortable being held in Harry’s hands.

Harry looked over at Remus. Remus was looking at Leo, something sharp and painful in his gaze as well as love.

“We’re here for you,” Remus’ eyes flickered to Harry. “Whatever happens.”

Harry did take comfort in that. He did. But it didn’t do much against the feeling of dread in his stomach. There might be a life for him after Draco, but honestly… he didn’t feel particular enthusiastic living lit. He would rather just have Draco for another year, another month, another hour... just to hold him and kiss him. He’d always wanted to tell Draco how much he meant to him, how incredible he was with the way he was whip cleaver and kind. So incredible kind. People missed that a lot. How Draco would do almost anything for the people he loved.

Harry felt something like despair claw at his insides. He didn’t quite know how to handle it – handle any of it – if Draco left. Harry should never have gotten involved in the first place. It didn’t make it _easier,_ having a decade of something close to perfect and then losing it, it made it _harder_.

Leo wriggled, begging for attention. “When will Sirius be back?” Harry couldn’t think about Draco. His heart was nearly ripping itself to shreds and Draco hadn’t even left him properly yet, hadn’t come to their apartment – their home – to get his things. _Fuck_.

“Hawwy,” Leo sounded a bit worried. “Hawwy sad?”

Harry wiped the tears that had sprung from his eyes. It felt like he’d cried buckets and buckets since yesterday. After half a life of not sheading a tear.

“It’s fine Leo,” he shook his head. “So when is your dad coming back?”

“Tomorrow,” Remus answered for him, thankfully not mentioning Draco again. “Mary on the other hand is back in two weeks.”

Harry nodded. “Felt like she was gone for a month not too long ago.”

“Mawwy!” Leo shouted.

“Not Marry. It’s _mum_ Leo,” Remus sounded pained saying it.

Leo was just shaking his head. “Nooo,” he dragged the word out smacking his buttery hands on his chubby cheeks. “It is Moony, not _muuuum_.”

“Christ,” Remus looked a bit pale and small for a second. “Christ.”

It occurred to Harry that he and Remus would be a right pair. Both of them left behind by the people they loved… Only difference being that while Harry was a monster Remus only offense was having a dick.

“It’s been two years,” Harry said to Remus with intent. Kissing Leo’s head even as his eyes stayed glued on Remus. “I could still do it.” He gestured vaguely with his hands. “Make you not love him.”

Remus just shook his head, breathing out slowly. “No,” he smiled tiredly. “It’s hard, but I don’t want it gone. At least not most of the time… and that’s good enough.”

Harry nodded, hugging Leo a bit closer. “Does it get easier?”

Remus looked at Harry with sad eyes, probably figuring out that Harry didn’t ask as much because of Remus and Sirius as for himself. He would after all have to live on without Draco. Without waking up to Draco’s limbs spread out all over the bed, without wit and cutting sarcasm. Without soft smiles and slim hands intertwined with his own. Fuck, why couldn’t he have been born normal? Something less of a monster.

Remus sighed as he pondered Harry’s question. The lengthy pause didn’t bode well. “Some days I think it does get easier. But some days it’s worse.”

Harry had figured. It still made his chest impossible tight hearing the truth.

“But there are silver linings,” Remus waved towards Leo who gladly waved back, butter splattering everywhere. “Like this little fellow.”

“Moony,” Leo howled even as he giggled and snorted out snot all over his lower face. Harry grudgingly took hold of a napkin and cleaned him. A less buttery face emerged from the sorry mess that was Leo-post-breakfast.

Not for the first time did Harry wonder how Remus manged to love Leo like he did. After all, Leo was the child of Sirius – the love of Remus’ fucking life – and Mary – the woman Sirius had decided to marry. It was a bit like how James once had loved him Harry supposed. Of course, all that had changed – as should – after he’d returned from the desert.

Leo kept ruining his and Harry’s clothes as breakfast continued. Harry tried to focus on the way Leo babbled about everything and nothing, his insights surprisingly cleaver and interesting. But in the end, it didn’t do much for the growing tightness in Harry’s chest.

His mind was meandering. He could be close to convinced that Draco wouldn’t leave him for one moment, stacking their time spent together, their love for one another in favour of Draco forgiving him. But all that faltered in the next moment as he remembered how Draco had shied away from him after recalling what Harry had forced him to do, how he’d taken away his memory.

Of course Draco would leave him.

Remus tried his best to keep him busy. Harry took the day off from the hospital because even though Harry wanted distractions he didn’t think he was in any shape to be trusted around people. He didn’t even want to think about his other voice, much less use it. So Remus told him to care for Leo, to fix the dishes, clean the house.

Later on during the day, in the middle of vacuuming, Harry stumbled into a closet. It was a bit of a surprise and a bit of a heart wreaking secret . Because the closet was filled of Sirius’ old things.

Harry didn’t mention his discovery, opting for closing the door gently to continue vacuuming elsewhere. It was in moments like these that he wondered how he’d managed to not see Remus obvious inflation. For some reason he’d always imagined Sirius and Remus best friends. His guardians.

He tried not to compare Remus to himself as he remembered the webs in the closet, the thick dust covering everything. But it was hard. He wondered if he would leave Draco’s closet in a similar state in their apartment. Unless Draco took everything with him.

Would it be easier to have some stolen items of a forgotten time?

Harry was busy not thinking about Draco when the man himself knocked on the door. Harry didn’t think much about it because there had been several people knocking while he’d vacuumed and played with Leo. Apparently Remus kept himself busy in his spare time. So Harry sat with a sleepy Leo in his arms, reading Matilda out loud despite of how Leo’s breaths grew heavier.

He hadn’t planned to face Draco like this. He’d been expecting a call, time to prepare. He would certainly have dressed more proper, not an old T-shirt and stained sweatpants.

Draco looked both exhausted and yet breathtakingly beautiful standing in the doorway to the study. There was a presence of strength in the lines of his body as he stood looking at Harry with a blank face. Harry on the other hand had no doubts in that he himself looked like hell. Clearly the most unattractive he’d looked in years.

Not that he’d ever thought Draco would stay with him because of his face and body. Nothing could possibly be worth it compared to what he was, what he’d done. And Draco would never be that shallow.

Blaise was with Draco, Harry could hear him in the hall, talking to Remus in a muted voice. That didn’t bode well. Blaise was here to support Draco perhaps, support him after he’d carefully torn Harry’s heart into meat slabs adoring Remus’ floor. Harry wondered if someone else should hold Leo, he didn’t think he would be able to control his actions after Draco had left. Forever.

“Christ,” Draco looked aloof yet so achingly near. “Don’t look at me like I’m here to end you.”

“Right,” Harry lowered his gaze, carefully cradling Leo who’d finally fallen asleep in his lap. “I know I said it yesterday but I’m truly sorry.”

Draco didn’t acknowledge the apologise with more than a short exhale. Harry tried to stop his hands from shaking. He liked to be able to look out over people, towering over heads, to be in control. It made him itch not to have that, to sit down before Draco standing. But he’d gladly suffer it if it made Draco more comfortable.

He hoped it made him more comfortable.

“I- I know it doesn’t cut it,” Harry continued, swallowing twice as his mouth all of a sudden felt painfully dry. “But I have never made you forget before or after nor will I ever do it again.” He should just save his apologises, they wouldn’t prevent anything. But at least Draco might forgive him, even if he didn’t stay. Maybe Harry would be able to watch Draco live his life despite not being precisely in it.

Maybe Draco would at least look at him with something else than betrayal?

Draco sighed again, face still blank. “I’m still mad,” he began with. For some reason Harry’s stomach made a loop at that statement. Did that mean Draco would stop being mad? Or did it mean he just didn’t accept Harry’s apology? “I…” Draco faltered, eyes turning away from Harry. “Fuck, I should have waited.” The last part was murmured.

Harry’s throat wouldn’t quite allow him to swallow anymore.

“It’s fine,” Harry said despite that it wasn’t really fine. “We could talk later,” _never_ , “whatever you’re comfortable with,” _please don’t leave me_.

“It’s just that I’d never thought you would…” Draco trailed off, eyes still firmly averted. “We tell each other almost everything. I trust… trusted you.”

God Harry would rather just vanish into thin air than have this conversation carved into him. Draco doesn’t trust him- of course he doesn’t, not after what Harry had done to him. Images surfaced unbidden to his mind. Images of Draco on his knees, Draco allowing him to use his other voice to make him do things, trusting him easily. That would never happen again. Draco falling asleep next to him, _that_ would _never_ happen again.

Harry blinked quickly. He’d cried enough during the night, Draco didn’t need to see him wail like another baby.

“I see. I-” he interrupted himself to swallow quickly. “I don’t expect you to trust me. Not with my voice… with this fucking monstrous curse-”

“Stop saying that.” Draco’s voice could cut through Harry’s very core, probably did it as well. Harry fell silent immediately. “This isn’t about your voice Harry. This isn’t about the COM.”

Harry nodded like he understood exactly what Draco was talking about. Like he’d been stupid dropping the earlier remark, a remark which he thought of as true – It _was_ true. But he was unsure. Not that he’d ask Draco to specify.

Draco did anyhow.

“This is about you,” Draco sounded angry, despite how he didn’t raise his voice he sounded so, so angry. “This is about that you thought it was okay to make me forget. To make decisions for me.”

Harry didn’t dare to speak. It was all true after all.

“Ten years Harry. It’s been over ten years.”

“I know. I- I’m sorry.”

“What I don’t get is why _you_ would do that?” Draco sounded something else than angry, but it was hard to nail down exactly what emotion coursed through his voice. “Fine that you were young, stupid, probably fucked up beyond belief. But now Harry…”

Draco’s voice broke. He glanced at Harry, the silvery pools full of betrayal.

“…You’ve had so many years to tell me. I don’t get why you wouldn’t… I just don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry didn’t quite know what to say, was there even anything to say?

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” Draco sounded cold again, the momentary lapse of weakness gone. “I just want you to answer me.”

Harry clutched Leo tighter to him, wondering if he should maybe hand over the sleeping boy to Remus, wherever he was.

“I,” Harry wondered if he should spill. Probably, maybe. Would it matter? Would it make things worse? Perhaps he owed Draco the ugly truth, correction… there was no perhaps about it. “I didn’t want you to hate me.”

He hated that he sounded less than put together. But there wasn’t much he could do about it.

Draco didn’t look impressed with his answer. “Did you think it would be better that I found out about it years later? Because you can’t possibly be that naïve.”

Harry just shook his head. “Not better. I just wanted to stay with you a bit longer…” He smiled faintly, the grimace feeling rather dead on his face. “Just like you didn’t break of the engagement with Astoria-”

“Don’t you dare-” Draco sounded dangerous for a moment, something sharp and lethal in his voice. “Don’t you _dare_ make this about that.”

Harry just shook his head quickly, his heart beating loudly in his chest. “Not that. Your parents,” he breathed out. “You wanted to be with your parents for just a bit longer. Before they would leave you. Forever.”

Draco was looking at him, his silvery eyes widening like maybe he understood something. “You think I’m going to leave you?”

Harry didn’t know what was the right answer. Didn’t know what Draco wanted him to say, yes, no? Perhaps this was all just a really big fuck-up? Maybe Harry should have just stayed quiet and allowed Draco to walk out without giving him a painful reminder of the parents that he hadn’t seen in years. Another sacrifice he’d made to be with Harry. Oh how he must regret that now.

Draco looked impatient where he stood in the doorway. Harry felt really awkward holding a sleeping Leo sitting on the couch.

“Well? Was that why you didn’t say it? Because you thought I would leave you?”

Harry gave a short nod because of course _yes_ , but also Draco would have left him anyhow. Would have looked at Harry one morning and decided that he was too freaky, too dangerous, not good enough. “You would leave anyhow,” Harry probably should shut up right about now, but his mouth kept forming words. “I- I’m not normal…”

Draco looked pissed.

“Ten years,” he snarled and Leo whimpered in his sleep. Harry tugged him closer, hands shaking with new force. “You think I stayed together with you for ten years just to fucking leave you?”

Harry didn’t dare answer. Because his answer would be ‘yes’ and Draco would then, without doubt, spit out that he hated Harry, hated, hated, him.

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Remus,” he called out and Remus was suddenly there in the doorway. Remus’ eyes were wide and his posture tense. “Take Leo, I need to speak to Harry in private.

Remus looked like he almost wanted to protest but in the end didn’t. Instead he walked into the room and grabbed hold of Leo with careful hands, patting Harry’s shoulder kindly even as he backed away.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Draco called out just before Remus had closed the door. Remus didn’t look like he wanted to stop but did anyhow.

“Yes?”

Draco faltered for a moment, the fury inside of him wilting for a beat. “Did you know?” he gestured towards his head, his mind, his memories. “Ron knew, but did you? Did Sirius?”

Harry wanted his ribs to pierce his inner, wanted to disappear, wanted to go back years and trust that Draco would keep his secret if nothing else. This was going to hurt. Maybe too much for him to bear.

“Yes, we knew,” Remus answered because he was truthful, more so than Harry.

Draco didn’t say anything, but his face grew hard again, and his movement stilted. “Thank you for being frank,” he said. “Please do get out of here.”

Remus did, eyes wide and posture slumping. He looked shamed. Properly shamed. Draco could do that to people, Harry had just never thought he would to that to them.

He was prepared for the worst when Draco whirled around, the room empty except for them.

He held his breath as Draco walked along the walls of the room, looking to the world like he was slightly bored. Harry knew better.

“Leave you,” Draco _snarled_. “I broke off an engagement, contact with my parents, married you and now you tell me you’ve been walking around all this time thinking I would leave you?”

“I know you would never _want_ to leave me Draco,” Harry tried even as his voice didn’t work properly. “But I’m not good for anyone, I’m evil. In the end anyone would leave-”

Harry didn’t see Draco moving closer before he was suddenly inches away. Hand fisted in Harry’s shirt and face within kissing distance. Harry wanted to close his eyes, wanted to turn away from the glowing silver orbs that was Draco’s eyes. There was so much anger there, so much _blame_.

Harry didn’t want Draco to think of him as a monster. He didn’t.

“So this is about your staggering lack of self-confidence?” Draco sounded mean. “I thought we were over that. For some fucking reason I thought you believed me the ten thousand times I said I love you and that I wanted to be with you forever.” Harry was breaking apart a bit. Was having something precious torn out of him, he’d never felt smaller. Draco would be able to end him with a mere word.

How fitting.

“You meant it,” Harry gasped. “I believed you then. But nobody can know the future and-”

Draco looked livid. “How can you have walked around like this?” He sounded so fucking angry. “You were walking around waiting for me to pack my bags and I was building a life with you.”

“I love you,” Harry couldn’t stop tears from flooding over, for feeling like the biggest of failures. It was like he was toppling over the brink of something, maybe madness. He needed Draco, he couldn’t bear for this to be the last words Draco told him. He would rather die than feeling like this for the rest of his life.

Draco was at least startled enough to lose the cutting edge of hatred, shock, and anger in his eyes.

Harry couldn’t really stop the way his hands grasped at Draco, getting hold of his waist and quickly burying his face in Draco’s clothed belly. Draco was there, warm skin underneath his cheek. Fuck, how had Harry ever thought he deserved this? How had he ever been stupid enough to tell Draco the fact that he was clinging to him, quite desperately. If there had been any questions about Draco leaving him before it was settled now. Harry would remain alone, abandoned and Draco would find someone who was less broken.

But Harry couldn’t quite let go, couldn’t quite help but bend forward from where he was sitting on the couch and wrap his arms around Draco’s middle, face still hiding against firm warmness. At least this way he didn’t need to look at Draco’s face.

“I love you. I love you. God, I love you so much,” Harry’s words were muffled but he hoped Draco heard them, hoped he knew how much Harry meant them.

“Jesus fuck,” but Draco didn’t sound mean, he did sound rather dejected though. Harry tried not to let it get to him, but his breath hitched.

“I never wanted you to leave,” he continued, trying to desperately make Draco see this. “I never want you to leave. I’m so lucky to have you and I know I shouldn’t think you would leave but I’m a bit broken… I’ve tried not to be and I’m better, I’ve gotten better. You’ve made me better.”

Harry let out a sob even though he wanted to continue spilling words, continue telling Draco about the times he’d felt so utterly happy it had been scary. Like when Draco had told him yes when he’d proposed, like that time in the car when Draco had bopped him on the nose and told him he had a bright soul. Like so many times when Draco had been ridiculous and relaxed and entirely his.

“Harry, fuck,” Draco’s hands hovered on Harry’s shoulders like they couldn’t decide on to settle or not.

“People _do_ leave Draco,” Harry still didn’t dare to peak up at him. “And I never wanted you to. I want to be with you forever, but my brain runs wild sometimes. I can’t help it Draco. I’ve tried to be better. I _will_ be better.”

He tightened his grip.

“Please don’t leave,” he begged again. “I don’t think I could quite take it if you did, I’m afraid I’ll just walk around trying to remember life with you.”

Harry wasn’t usually this honest, but he couldn’t take Draco remembering their time with something like anger, something like betrayal or even disgust. He didn’t know if he was fighting for Draco, didn’t really know what he was doing at all. His mouth just kept pouring out words.

“I shouldn’t have made you forget. But the whole situation with _making_ you kiss me just made me feel gross, disgusting. Like I was a monster. I should never have forced you to forget, I just didn’t want you to hate me.”

Draco muttered something alike “fuck,” from above and suddenly Harry was being pushed back on the couch. Before the dull pain in his chest managed to settle in properly Draco was following him. Easily straddling his legs and crowding him. And then there were arms wrapped around him and Harry was nuzzling Draco’s throat and a hand was carding through his hair.

“Hush,” Draco whispered and it was all right. His voice wasn’t vicious, wasn’t cutting nor filled with that burning anger. Instead, it was quiet, soft. A bit like Harry’s Draco. “Harry. Calm down.”

Harry tried to obey, tried to make his hitching breath slow. It wasn’t easy, but Draco kept petting him, kept talking calmly and slowly. He managed to relax his tight grip on Draco somewhat, and Harry’s breath returned to heavy wet exhales instead of drowning gulps.

They stayed like that for a while. Harry breathing in Draco, trying to memorise everything about him. At least if this was the last time. _Please don’t let it be the last time_.

Harry couldn’t help but tense when Draco moved after a while. He didn’t move far away, but he did straighten somewhat. At least he kept his hands on Harry’s shoulders.

“Harry,” he sounded sad, sad and torn. “Please, Harry look at me.”

Harry did look, because Draco had asked him, close to begged even. And suddenly they were inches apart, lips almost touching. The distance felt like oceans and Harry’s very core ached to close it.

Draco’s eyes winded, clearly also noticing their mouths almost lined up. Draco was so beautiful it hurt to look at him.

Harry didn’t know who first breached the distance but suddenly Draco’s plump lips moved against his, and warmth spilled into his mouth and light into his soul. The kiss was reverent, slow and filled of so many things Harry couldn’t do much else than pray he interpreted them right. Love, sadness, tears, longing, heartbreak.

He didn’t want Draco to pull away, never wanted him to pull away.

It felt like yesterday all over again when Draco pushed away at last, their lips parting with a wet sound. “Harry,” he sounded choked up. “You can’t go around and do this.”

“Do what?” Harry clung to him, used his strength to force Draco to stay, just a couple of seconds more.

“I can’t just forgive you.”

  _Christ, oh god._

“Forgive me…?” Harry couldn’t do much else than repeat the words, unbelief evident in his shaking voice. Harry held Draco close, possibly bruising him. “Please,” his voice sounded choked up. “Please forgive me.”

“Hush,” Draco kissed him again, sweeping in and stealing one, two, three lingering kisses. Harry met them with desperation. “Of course I’m going to forgive you, you fucking idiot.”

“God Draco,” something alike a shudder went through Harry, _straight through him_. “Love you, love you so, so much.”

“But I’m still mad,” Draco didn’t let go though, even allowed Harry to kiss him softly on his jaw, Harry’s mouth wet and intent. Harry wanted to crawl inside of Draco, wanted to always be with him. “What you did was so beyond okay that I still have a hard time believing you did it. I just thought you wouldn’t do that to me.”

“Never again,” Harry breathed. “I hated it, didn’t want to do it… But I couldn’t tell you after it was a done, was too scared.” Harry mumbled the words into Draco’s skin, his hands shaking slightly less as he revelled in the feeling of things not being unfixable. Of Draco staying.

“Fuck, I know,” Draco sounded a bit mad, but not like before so that was okay. “I’m still not going to just forgive you yet.”

Harry nodded even as he pressed a series of kisses down Draco’s throat. “It’s okay. I’ll work for it. Work for you.”

Draco let out a small breath, his voice a bit warmer. “I know you will.”

Harry’s heart was so light it might fly straight out of his chest. Might fly towards the skies, space, to the stars to forever dance in zero gravity. Elevation, feeling pure elevation, so this was what that was.

“It’s still unfair of you to do this to me.” Draco sounded pouty.

“Do what?” Harry couldn’t touch him enough, hands caressing his back, lips moving against his pulse point. It was beating steady underneath Harry’s lips. He was already thinking up things to do as to earn Draco’s forgiveness. Travel somewhere maybe? Draco had always wanted to see whales. Or maybe just write Draco letters. Like the letters he hadn’t sent while in the army.

The letters still hiding in his closet.

He could show them to Draco maybe? They were filled of so many horrible things, but Harry suspected Draco might still want to read them. So he’d give them to him, no hesitation. Of course he would.

“It’s unfair that you do this,” Draco tapped against Harry’s shoulder but Harry refused to detangle from slim limbs. God, this night must have been the worst one he’d ever had. “That you are sad and small.”

“I’m not small,” was all Harry responded because him being sad was undeniably true. “I’m larger than practically everybody.”

“You know what I mean,” Draco was running his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t want to come here today. I knew we were going to end up like this and I’m still so mad. You have no idea.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“I know you are. But you need to prove it to me, need to give me time- No don’t look at me like that I won’t change my mind about forgiving you.” Draco shook his head even as Harry gave him a scared look. Needing time sounded all but promising. “Trust me Harry.”

“But you don’t trust me,” Harry shouldn’t sound upset by that, he had only himself to blame after all. Still, his heart ached a bit again. It was silly to believe that they would get back together like before at once. Still, it didn’t make the ache go away.

Draco sighed from where he was straddling Harry, their faces nearly the same height. “Convince me then,” was all he offered, kissing Harry’s nose. “Do some grovelling.”

Harry nodded, determination settling over the ache. “Of course,” he bent forward in a bold move, kissing Draco deeply. He even allowed his tongue to sweep forward, dipping into Draco’s open mouth and lap for a beat. Draco looked a bit dazed when he withdrew.

“Cheater,” Draco muttered and frowned. He then bent forward to leave a lingering kiss on Harry’s lips, mouth remaining firmly closed. When he withdrew he did so properly, un-straddling Harry and getting a well yard between them. The distance felt too broad.

Draco fixed his shirt and slightly mussed hair. His motions precise but relaxed. Despite the way he looked at the clock Harry didn’t feel that acute pain anymore. Draco would be back.

“I’m going to be staying at Blaise and Cho’s for a while,” but he didn’t sound cold saying it so Harry just nodded. “You can pick me up tomorrow at seven. I expect the restaurant to be up to my standards. If you take me to that street corner shack we’ll both know you’re not trying hard enough.”

Harry nodded. He would ask Hermione, maybe Ginny, they knew all the best restaurants.

“I’m going to go now,” Draco announced a bit hesitant. “You’re clever Harry and you know me. You know how much I will want to forgive you.”

Harry nodded. He would make Draco sure once again that he’d never hurt him, never do something stupid like this ever again, he would show Draco the letters from the army… He- he would work on all these dark thoughts in his head, echoes of Lily’s words from the past. _Monster, freak_ …

Draco walked out from Grimmauld place, but Harry had never felt more hope. His life wouldn’t turn grey, it was still filled with colours. Remus seemed prepared for the worst as he stepped into the room, his face a mask of worry.

“It’s okay,” Harry said at once, offering Remus a tired smile.

Remus just stared at him. “Thank god,” he muttered before taking three staggering steps forward and collapsing on the couch beside Harry. “Fuck, Draco can be damn scary.”

“You have no idea,” Harry was still thinking rapidly about how he was an idiot for not fixing this dark valley inside of him before. Had it really taken Draco breaking down in front of him and comforting him to see that Harry wasn’t really okay? That he hadn’t been okay for a long, long time.

“Leo’s sleeping,” Remus said after a beat of silence. “And… Draco will be back?”

“I have to make him forgive me first.” Harry said slowly, turning to Remus with a thoughtful expression. “And… I think I should talk to someone.”

Remus met his gaze, face puzzled for a moment before his eyes widened. “Oh,” he said, a small smile hiding in the curl of his lips. “That… that’s really- that’s really good.”

“It’s not just for him. I mean, of course it’s for him, but I think it’s a lot for me as well.”

“I’m glad Harry,” Remus almost sounded a bit wobbly. “I think that’s a really, really good decision.”

Harry nodded, an unusual redness appearing on his cheeks. “Right.”

“I…” Remus hesitated for a bit. “I was talking to someone for a while. When Sirius first left, when you disappeared to the military.”

Harry nodded, it made sense. “Is he any good?”

“His name is Albus Dumbledore and yeah… he makes things appear hopeful, better.”

Harry nodded again. “Maybe I’ll give him a ring?”

“Yeah.” Remus moved closer, hugging Harry tightly to him and patting him softly on his back. “Maybe you should.”

– 31 years old –

“She’s small,” Leo looked up at Harry as they sat side by side on the floor. “Like a little toy.”

“Yeah she’s only a few months,” Harry was smiling down at the little toy-girl that was way to small to be a normal baby for Leo’s taste. She was rather a mini-baby, a toy-girl.

“She’s sleeping,” Leo couldn’t help but complain. She’d been giggling a while ago and that had been sort of nice but right now she was useless. Just a tiny lump taking up space and making the adults hush him if he made too much noise. Ugh… boooring!

Leo continued to play with the Lego surrounding him. He couldn’t make cool sounds of destruction so he opted for building things to destroy later. He already had an airplane Moony had helped him build which he would break in half at first best opportunity.

Harry was just sitting staring at the mini-baby, his eyes wide and warm. Leo threw a Lego piece at Harry with a scowl. “Help me,” he demanded.

Harry did, as he should. Easily piecing together a house. Leo thought his house looked much better than Harry’s, but then again, Harry was still sneaking peaks at the mini-baby on the floor so maybe that was why.

Draco joined them after a while, lifting up the mini-baby and holding her in his arms. She started to let out small upset sounds at being disturbed in her sleep.

“Hush,” Draco whispered into her hair. “Just wanted to say bye before I go to work love.”

Harry made a pouty face and Draco let out a laugh before bending down and giving Harry a kiss. Leo pretended to gag even as he threw another Lego piece at Harry. “Gross!” he declared loudly.

Harry just giggled and Draco did the same.

Leo threw more Lego at them, stupid adults.

“You were much cuter when you were younger,” Harry complained even as he forced a kiss on Leo’s cheek.

“Gross!” Leo shouted again as he fought against Harry’s grip, managing to pinch him hard. Not that the pain seemed to affect Harry in any way. They ended up in an wrestle competition that Harry won. Mostly because of how Harry was four times as big as Leo but also because Leo let him win. He was nice that way.

“Stupid,” he muttered when Harry let go of him. He threw another Lego piece at Harry. Harry threw one back at him.

“I’ll go now,” Draco laughed, bending down to kiss Harry one more time. “Play nice and take care of Stella.”

“Of course,” Harry beamed up at Draco. “Love you.”

“Love you,” Draco answered before taking his briefcase and heading towards the door. Leo just waved lazily before returning to his Lego. He was currently thinking about turning his house into a submarine, the mass of Lego he’d put together didn’t really look much like anything truth be told.

Harry walked out of the room with mini-baby for a while before returning without her.

“She’s sleeping,” was all he said as he re-joined Leo on the floor.

“Good,” Leo returned before smashing his half submarine half house with a loud shriek.

“Jesus,” Harry just laughed. “You’re crazy.”

“I’m awesome,” Leo returned.

They settled again, Leo wanted to wait with destroying the airplane until Moony was back. He was sure Moony would be the perfect audience, better than boring Harry at least.  

“When is Moony coming back?”

“He’s working at the bookstore,” Harry just said without answering Leo’s question. Stupid.

“Well!?”

Harry sighed. “I don’t know if you’ll have time to meet him. Your mum will pick you up in an hour.”

Leo pouted at that. “I want to see Moony.”

“You’ve barely been home this past month, you aren’t supposed to move out until you’re eighteen you know.”

“I want to stay here.”

“Leo,” Harry sighed.

“Harry,” Leo parroted. He might have just turned four but he wasn’t stupid.

“We’ll see,” Harry settled on in the end. Leo allowed it for now. He didn’t really want to go home to Mary and Sirius. They were barely home anyhow, both of them always away on trips and stupid work things. Moony was better, he was awesome, always here and was really, really good at building things with Lego. Sirius and Mary had no skills in Lego-building. Leo couldn’t work with that.

“Moony built me a plane you know,” Leo continued. “He must be here when I destroy it.”

Harry sighed. “Why must you always destroy things?”

“I don’t know… It’s fun.” Leo threw more Lego at Harry just to annoy him.

“You’re supposed to be rebellious when you’re a teenager not when you’re four years old.”

“And you’re supposed to be an adult when you’re an adult, not a whiny child.”

Harry threw his hands up in the air. “Fine.”

Leo felt smug. He even allowed Harry to help him separate some Lego-pieces that were stuck together. He rather Moony was here to help him but he supposed Harry would do.

“I suppose,” Leo said after they’d built for a while in silence. “I suppose that mini-baby is okay… At least when she’s not sleeping or screaming.”

“Stella… her name is Stella you know.”

“Stella then,” Leo amended.

He was a bit surprised when Harry pulled him into an unexpected hug, kissing his cheek again. Leo didn’t bother resisting the gross gesture. “You’re a bit cute as well as a brat.”

“I know.” Leo did know, was rather smug about it actually. “No, put me down.”

Harry did, but ruffled his hair first. His curls went everywhere and Leo sent Harry a small scowl. “You’re alright as well,” he mumbled because Blacks returned compliments, or so had Sirius told him once. “But Moony is the best.”

Harry laughed and Leo smiled even as they returned to playing around. Together they joined forces to build a spaceship. It probably wouldn’t look all that pretty but as long as Leo could break it that didn’t really matter. It was fairly large already and they had two hours left before Moony came home. Leo felt excited.

He couldn’t wait to show it all to Moony. 

– END –

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end of our tale. 
> 
> I am quite unsure of what to say, but I would at the least once again like to thank all of you that have commented, and read this through! Without your kind words and show of encouragement I wouldn't have managed to finish this at all.
> 
> I hope the end was to your satisfaction. I have edited it countless of times and been rather unsure of how exactly the end was going to be, but I believe me happy with this one. I know Sirius and Remus' tale didn't end happily after all, but I guess that something like a perfect ending very rarely happens.
> 
> Also, a song I listened to while writing this chapter was "I don't wanna love somebody else" by the band "A great big world." Mostly when writing Harry's POV. So you guys can go listen to that one, I truly recommend it!
> 
> I think that's all for me. Thank you again, even if you been with me from the beginning or is going to read this five years in the future, thank you for sticking along on this journey and I hope you've enjoyed the ride!
> 
> All the love,   
> and until next time. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, glad you got through it! Hope you liked it! I got inspired to write this fic after watching Jessica Jones. The supervillan in the show has such a horrifying superpower that I just had to explore it’s possibilities by granting the same power to someone not-evil. Thus this fic!
> 
> This fic does not really follow any timelines from either Harry Potter or Jessica Jones but stands all on its own in that regard. More chapters will be added, but until summer I can’t promise regular updates dates. 
> 
> As you may have noticed the “format” of this fic is one scene once a year. Hope it works for you since I’m seeing this as a growing-up-kind-of-fic where I don’t have the patience to go into everything that happens Harry every year. :) 
> 
> Anyway! Hope you find this fic interesting enough to tag along for the ride! I appreciate all forms of support from comments to kudos! I also enjoy constructive criticism as long as it’s worded nicely. 
> 
> Anyway! Stay awesome! I’m out ;)


End file.
